Parlance of the Serpent
by Faerie Green
Summary: It's a year after Voldemort's defeat and Hogwarts has been reopened. War has changed the lives of those involved, as Harry and Draco learn when they return to school for their sixth year. (HP/DM & AU split after book IV)
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is my first HP fic and I hope you all like it. If you don't like Draco/Harry stuff please don't read it (not that there's much of that in chapter one anyway). Honestly I don't think it makes much sense in the context of how J.K.R.'s books are going to go, but I changed that around a bit. If she was writing my story we would actually get nine books instead of just seven wouldn't that be nice. (sigh) I guess I'm rambling now. I'll shut up and let you read it now. By the way thanks to all you people who've reviewed this for me. I really appreciate it. And for anyone else please R&R for me. On with the show.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K.Rowling's WONDERFUL creations. I only own Tinder and Dipsy, and not even their species.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 1

As usual Draco Malfoy awoke scared and shaken. Clutching a hand to his wildly beating heart, he looked up to see sunlight streaming through his bedroom windows. The young man shook his head and ran long fingers through his pale hair. He swung his legs over the edge of his bed and stood up, shivering at the cold wooden floor on his bare feet. Quickly putting on his robe and slippers, he padded down the hall to check on his mother.

Ever since Lucius Malfoy was sent to Azkaban Draco had been fiercely protective of his mother. Narcissa Malfoy had always been a quiet woman who needed to be taken care of, and after the stress of leaving her husband she had broken down and completely depended upon her son. Draco's newfound responsibility brought maturity, compassion, and thoughtfulness, all qualities he would have detested two years earlier. Unfortunately it also brought dreams. Dreams that chilled Draco's heart and made him wake full of fear. Dreams that forced him to relive every night the day he and his mother had gone to the Ministry of Magic to turn Lucius in. Dreams that showed him his father's face and made him hear the screams of rage and terror as his father was carried off to Azkaban with a troop of dementors in tow.

Peeking around his mother's door, he made sure that she was safely asleep. With that done, he walked down the stairs of the silent house. His footsteps on the large marble staircase, once used by some of the most powerful wizards in the country, echoed hollowly through the hall. Draco passed doors that had been blocked off after their fall from society. Furniture from all over the world was shut up in these rooms and strong anti-dust spells had to be replaced every few months. The two house elves who had stayed on tried to clean all the rooms, but Draco's personality change was so complete that he realised that they were under too much pressure and he shut up the house.

Pausing on the stairs he looked up at a portrait. A boy of thirteen looked down at him from where he was sprawled on a dark green sofa. The boy stood up with an impish twinkle in his silvery grey eyes. Looking at Draco's slightly dishevelled hair the boy in the painting sneered elegantly and smoothed back the single silvery blond hair that was out of place on his own forehead. Draco's heart filled with longing. If only he could be that carefree, cocky boy of his youth again. The outside world had seemed so remote, so unworthy of his notice. How Draco wished he could live in a world where that kind of naïveté was reality. As he walked away from the portrait his painted counterpart gave him a mocking bow and went back to reclining in a pose of arrogant pleasure.

Draco walked down a corridor and into the kitchen. Noticing two sleeping house elves at the large wooden table, he quietly closed the door after him. Walking over to a cupboard that looked like it might have tea in it, he glanced around the room looking for a kettle. Up until four months ago he had never been in this kitchen, let alone tried to make himself a pot of tea. He had expected to be served by the Malfoy family's huge staff of house elves. After his father had been taken away Draco's mother had freed most of the house elves and only Dipsy and Tinder had stayed on. These two elves had only stayed because they'd been serving Narcissa Malfoy since she was a teenager.

Draco pulled the teabags out of the cupboard and stared at them blankly. Pulling his wand out of the pocket of his robe he magically moved them into the kettle. With a flick of his wrist he lit up a small fire under the kettle. Smiling in self-satisfaction he waited for the tea to be ready. The only sounds in the kitchen were the deep breaths of the two house elves and the slow steady ticking of a clock. As Draco sat on a stool, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes slowly closed and he was lulled into slumber by the rhythmic ticking.

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He was chasing the golden snitch. He could see it in front of him, fluttering and dodging his grasp. Gripping his broom he leaned forward so that the other seeker behind him wouldn't get to the snitch first. Suddenly he felt his robes being tugged from behind and three shapes went hurtling past him at the snitch. Three hands closed around it at once, crushing the tiny flapping wings. The hands belonged to three familiar faces; Potter, Chang, and Diggory. Ignoring the fact that two of those three people were dead, Draco opened his mouth to protest against three seekers to one. Diggory pointed his wand at Draco and mouthed a word. Draco started to choke and his eyes widened in horror as the other seekers' hoods and robes lengthened. Suddenly all four of them were on the ground and the other three people had ceased to exist. Dementors stood in their places!

"Please," Draco shrunk away from them. "Don't take me!"

The dementors drifted towards him. He turned to run and found himself facing a mirror. Rooted to the spot he watched as his reflection turned slowly into Lucius Malfoy and was dragged off by the dementors. Draco opened his mouth to scream, but only a loud high-pitched whistle came out

The whistling of the kettle roused Draco from his slumber. As he sat rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Tinder leapt up and turned off the water. Dipsy scuttled over to a cupboard and pulled out a teacup and saucer. Their combined magic poured the tea into the cup, adding just the right amount of cream and sugar for their young master. Tinder bowed low and presented the tea to Draco, who took it and sipped some.

"I was trying to do it myself," he reproached them mildly. "I should probably learn some day."

"We're very sorry sir," Dipsy replied meekly with a deep bow. "Master Draco mustn't work Sir. This is Dipsy and Tinder's job Sir."

"Well maybe I want to learn how to do things for myself for a change," Draco snapped. "Maybe you two should sod off and let me try things my way!"

Immediately Draco regretted his words. He opened his mouth to apologise, but he was too late. Dipsy and Tinder started banging their heads against the huge metal stove, creating a huge metal boom each time their heads came into contact with the metal. Draco rushed over, dropping his teacup in the process, and pulled the elves away from the stove.

"Look I didn't mean to make you punish yourselves," Draco let go of them and watched them rush to clean up his newest mess. Taking a calming breath he continued. "I'm just nervous about going back to school and leaving Mum here. I want you two to take extra special care of her. I'm dead serious about this. You know how she's been since... since we've been alone. If _anything_ happens to her while I'm away the two of you are going to have to bloody pray that I don't kill you."

Tinder's eyes widened until they looked like they would pop out of his head at the idea of either of them being unwatchful. "Oh Sir! We would never let harm come to Mistress Narcissa. We is being extra careful for her Sir."

"Yes Sir," Dipsy added. "We is making Mistress food in the morning Sir, and caring for her all the way to tucking her in at night Sir. And we is protecting her too Sir. We is not letting any bad witches, wizards, or other beasties get to Mistress Sir." The two elves took what they thought would seem to be a menacing guard stance.

Draco half smiled. "Alright I trust you two with her and house. I'm going upstairs to get ready to go. If Mum comes down tell her I'm leaving in an hour. I'll expect my trunk to be at the front door by then." As he left the kitchen something else occurred to him. "You did pack my Gringotts key, didn't you?" The elves nodded respectfully. "Good. I have a lot of shopping to do in Diagon Alley before school starts."

With that Draco walked back up to his room to get dressed. As he put on his silvery white shirt and black pants he wondered for the hundredth time what his reception back in Slytherin would be. He knew that over half the people in that house had left the school, but there would still be a few there who would know what he had done. With a sigh he buttoned his dark green robes and opened his door. With his wand in his hand he walked back downstairs to say goodbye to his mum and to catch the Knight Bus.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Chapter two of my HP story. Thank you to the people who reviewed the last chapter. I hope everyone likes this one as much as the first one. Please read and review. Enjoy. 

Special thanks to JC for catching little inconsistencies. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K.Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 2

Bacon scented steam rose through the floorboards and invaded Harry Potter's bedroom. Harry stood by his bed, carefully folding his black robes and placing them in a huge trunk. He blinked his green eyes as he cleaned the steam off the lenses of his glasses. The food smelled wonderful and it was with a heavy heart that Harry turned back to his trunk. As he placed his copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_ in his trunk the sound of whistling floated up the stairs. The young wizard smiled and opened his bedroom door to listen to his godfather Sirius Black whistling along to one of Celestina Warbeck's latest hits. A fresh wave of breakfast scents bombarded Harry's nostrils. Inhaling deeply, the young man gave in to the temptation and left off packing for the comforts of his godfather's cooking. As he entered the kitchen Sirius Black looked out at him from under a thatch of hair as black and unruly as Harry's own.

"What are you doing dressed already?" the tall man asked accusingly. "You don't have to leave for another hour or so."

Grabbing a plate Harry helped himself to fresh fruit and bacon. He sampled the meat and sighed a sigh of perfect happiness before replying.

"I promised Ron and Hermione that I'd meet them earlier. It's Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's thirtieth anniversary next week and we want to get them a really nice gift. Besides," he added. "If I leave checking in to Ron we'll never get or rooms."

"So let Hermione secure the rooms. You know she's more than competent."

"I know you want to keep me here Sirius, but I will be back for Christmas," Harry tried to reassure his godfather. "Besides you . . ."

Harry was cut off by a tapping on the window. Shaking his hair out of his eyes Sirius opened the window for a large snowy owl. She swooped into the room and landed on the table next to Harry. After dropping two letters into Harry's lap she nibbled his ear affectionately and started to sample his bacon.

"Thank you Hedwig," Harry stared at the two letters in confusion. One was addressed to himself and the other to Sirius. They both bore the Hogwarts seal.

"Sirius," Harry asked as he handed his godfather's letter across the table. "Why would Hedwig be bringing letters from Hogwarts? Shouldn't one of their owls do that?"

"That's right," Sirius replied absently as he opened his envelope. "I forgot to tell you I was borrowing Hedwig to send a note to Dumbledore. Sorry, it must have slipped my mind."

Harry, seeing that Sirius was lost in whatever Dumbledore had written, opened his own letter. He smoothed out the three sheets of parchment and began to read.

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Dear Mr. Potter,

Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock.

Due to the events of the past two years all students shall be enrolled in the classes that they would have attended were it not for the unfortunate circumstances aforementioned.

Fifth years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign.

A list of books for next year is enclosed.

Yours sincerely,

Professor M. McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Harry folded up the parchment and passed the permission form across the table to Sirius with a muttered Hogsmeade. Briefly Harry glanced over the book list. He knew that Hermione would be furious to be held back two years, but he also knew that her common sense would calm her down. Letting his mind drift he smiled at the idea that schooling might have continued as usual during the last year. It was hard enough in their fifth year to keep studying, what with Voldemort's occasional attacks and students dropping out at least once a week, but last year it had been all out war. Harry's good mood crumpled as he remembered the things no one should have to see. Friends tortured. Muggles killed. Classmates pulling out their wands to curse him. Never would he forget the things he had seen or the things he had had to do.

Sirius looked up from his letter to see Harry with his head in his hands. A look of pained understanding crossed the older man's face. Sirius knew what images danced behind his godson's eyelids. More than anything he wished for a way to remove them. Clearing his throat he tried to liven the mood.

"Dumbledore sent me some good news." Harry looked up, masking his tortured thoughts. Sirius continued, trying to ignore what was in both their minds. "He says that the repairs on the castle are almost finished. He might tell the students this, but I'd stay away from the Forbidden Forest if I were you."

"Not that I'd go there anyway," Harry said with a weak smile.

"Of course not," Sirius replied, remembering his own rule breaking days. "Listen to what he says, The lake is being cleaned and Professor Nimity (our new Herbology teacher) is helping Merchiefteness Murcus and her subjects regrow their plants. A few of the younger centaurs are helping to clear up the wreckage in the Forbidden Forest, to the chagrin of their elders. Unfortunately there is still no way to tell who or what might still be in there. It is immensely important that students not enter the forest this year.'" Sirius paused and gave Harry a pointed look. Harry widened his eyes in a perfect pose of wronged innocence. Sirius continued reading aloud "I'm sure that the enclosing spells which some of the staff have helped me assemble will hinder most of the students at any rate. Speaking of students I'd like you to mention something to Harry. As you know young Mr. Malf . . .' Oh."

Sirius stopped reading. His eyebrows furrowed and he read silently to himself for a few moments. Harry frowned trying to figure out what Dumbledore had to say about Draco Malfoy. Surely . . . surely Malfoy would not be going back to Hogwarts after what happened with his family. After a brief silence Sirius looked up.

"Well . . . Dumbledore wants me to tell you something . . ." Sirius paused again and continued abruptly. "This is extremely serious and you must not repeat this to anyone. Not even Ron and Hermione. Everyone knows how you and Draco Malfoy feel about one another. Dumbledore and I think it would be a good idea for you to know the full circumstances of Lucius Malfoy's arrest."

When Voldemort announced that Snape was a spy for our side Malfoy took it as a personal insult. You see he had been full of faith that Snape would teach his son the Dark Arts in the private lessons they'd been having. For some unknown reason Voldemort allowed Malfoy to deal with Snape as he saw fit. Stupid bast . . . Malfoy thought his son would feel just as slighted. Anyway your friend Draco was supposed to torture his teacher, but instead he and his mum turned Lucius in to the Ministry. They were both at home when Lucius got dragged off to Azkaban."

I understand completely if you don't like him, personally I think anyone who looks up to Severus Snape is a bit daft, but try to be a little lenient. I predict he won't get a huge reception from most of his former Slytherin mates."

Harry sat silently for a while, digesting everything he had just heard. When Hedwig finished eating Harry's breakfast she hopped over to him and crooned softly to make sure he was all right. Absently stroking her feathers, Harry tried to picture Draco Malfoy watching his father get dragged off to Azkaban. He had known that it happened of course, but now that he understood how he had to completely rethink all the "truths" he "knew" about the Malfoy family. Finally he spoke.

"I'll do my best to be less hostile towards him, but I can't vouch for Ron," thinking carefully he continued. "Hermione's the only one who can control him when it comes to Malfoy and that's just because they're a couple now. I might have to tell her if things get out of hand. I'm positive she wouldn't tell anyone!" Harry added when he saw the look on Sirius's face.

"Well I'll leave that up to you," Sirius responded as he signed his name on the Hogsmeade permission form. "I'll send this with my reply to Dumbledore, shall I?"

Harry nodded absently and went upstairs to finish his packing. As he walked up the creaking wooden staircase to his room an image floated before his mind's eye. It was Draco Malfoy's face, with his pale, perfect skin, his glittering grey eyes, his fair blond hair with never a strand out of place, and his mouth twisted up in his ever-present smirk. If Harry didn't know Malfoy's personality, he was sure he would have fallen in love with the other wizard by now. Reaching for his last few things to pack, Harry's mind was filled with questions. Had Malfoy lost his cool in those moments when Fudge had arrived at his home to take away his father? Had watched impassively or had he shown emotion? Hard as it was for Harry to imagine, had Malfoy cried? Harry shook his head as he locked his trunk.

As he walked down the steps, dragging his trunk with him, he wished that Sirius could come to Hogwarts with him. Everything would be so much simpler with his godfather's advice. He stopped in the parlour and called out,

"Sirius. I have to go now."

Sirius walked into the room and heaved a melodramatic sigh. Harry smirked, knowing that his godfather was just acting and didn't mind too much that Harry was leaving.

"Come on 'Snuffles,'" Harry jokingly used the name Sirius had employed while he was still a fugitive. "I need you to help me get my trunk to the Leaky Cauldron. Please?"

Sirius rolled his eyes at Harry's mock whining, but finally pulled out his wand. He muttered a spell and the trunk disappeared. Shoving his wand back in his pocket, he strode across the room. He threw his arms around Harry in a rough bear hug then quickly stepped back to look at his godson, his hands still clenching Harry's shoulders.

"I'm really going to miss you around the house," he said quietly. "I'll come and see you when you have Hogsmeade vacations and you have to invite Ron and Hermione here for Christmas. Are you sure you know how to apparate to the right place?"

"Yes Sirius," Harry's tone sounded more exasperated than he really felt. Of course he knew how to apparate, he'd done it often enough during the war. Somehow though, he wished that he didn't know this spell, or any of the others he had learned while fighting. Shaking his head to clear it of those unhappy thoughts, Harry grinned at his godfather. "I promise I won't get myself splinched. I know where I'm going."

"All right. Get on with you then," Sirius sighed and gave him one quick last hug.

Harry stepped away and waved slightly. As he mumbled the incantation and thought hard about the Leaky Cauldron, the room began to fade. The last thing he saw before it faded away altogether was Sirius waving forlornly after him. All around him the air was a mush of colours, spinning for a brief second. Then he felt his feet on solid ground and was in the bar of the Leaky Cauldron. Harry walked over to the counter and signalled Tom the landlord. Tom walked over with a cleaning rag in one hand and a tankard in the other.

"Hello Mr. Potter," Tom grinned showing his toothless gums. "I've sent your trunk up to your room. Number 14. I understand Mr. Weasley and Ms. Granger will be arriving soon enough."

"Yes," Harry replied as Tom handed him his key. "Does Herm Ms. Granger have a room reserved near ours?"

"Yes sir. Shall I give you the other key or shall I wait for the young lady?"

"Probably best to wait," Harry grinned. "Hermione might be a bit picky about it."

"As you say sir," Tom stuck his rag in the tankard and began to clean it. "Would you like to have a drink sir?"

"Thank you, but not just yet," Harry smiled down upon the hunched landlord. "But after my friends get here I'm sure I'd love a drink."

The end of his sentence was almost cut off by the spray of dark brown liquid that splashed messily out of Tom's tankard. The little man jumped and put the suddenly full tankard upright on one of the tables. Harry covered his smile with cough as Tom's face turned bright red with fury.

"Confound that Otto and his refilling charms! Those Bagman brothers are two of a feather; If it's not one thing with them it's another."

Tom stomped off behind his bar, muttering about thieves and useless pranksters. Harry grinned and went upstairs to find his room and unpack. 


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Chapter three of my HP story. Still DM/HP slash. Actually not quite yet, but it will be some day. Please don't kill me for going overboard with Stan's accent, I was just having some fun. If you think this is bad just wait till we get to Hagrid. (Heh heh heh) Hope you enjoy what little there is of it. Please read and review. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K.Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 3

Draco sat in the Knight Bus on his little bed poring over one of his schoolbooks. Even though potions was Draco's favourite class, he was having trouble concentrating on Lenore Philocteta's description of which famous wizards were poisoned by which potions in Their Last Elixirs; a Stopper in Death. Instead he was wondering how his mum would do without him. He trusted that Tinder and Dipsy would take care of her, but he also knew that every wizard in the area of their home would look upon Narcissa Malfoy as a disease. The constant interruptions of the bus's jerking movements didn't exactly aid in his concentration.

"'Choo readin'?"

Draco looked up into the face of Stan Shunpike. Stan scratched one of his overly large ears as Draco hid his natural inclination to sneer. A thousand ways of telling Stan to mind his own business flew through Draco's head, but he ignored those as well.

"It's a book about potions," Draco tried to be civil. "I really need to read it for school, so if you don't mind"

Stan shrugged huffily and went to sit down next to the driver. Draco tried to go back to his reading, but as the purple clad conductor made no effort to lower his voice it was rather difficult.

"I don' know what's _wrong_ wi' _some_ people nowadays," Stan accentuated each word loudly and carefully, clearly not for the benefit of the driver. "Seems like _some_ people don' trust _no_ one these days. I don' think it's 'ealthy for 'em. But maybe if they learned some _manners_"

Stan stopped short as he was nearly flung out of his armchair by a particularly sudden halt of the bus. Stan leapt up to open the bus door and, seeing no one, banged it shut again. As he began to berate Edward Prang, the very young bus driver, for making an unscheduled stop, someone began pounding on the bus door. With a look of complete surprise, Stan opened the door to admit a short little witch with a gnarled and battered blue umbrella.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, emergency transport for the strand Mum!"

Draco rolled his eyes as Stan hugged Mrs. Shunpike. She was short and squat with wispy strands of greying hair sticking out from under her patched hat. She swatted at her son with her purse and sat down as the bus jumped back into its jerky motion. Mrs. Shunpike pointed at Stan with a finger almost as gnarled as the handle of her umbrella.

"You no good son o' mine. Choo doin' closing that door on me, eh?"

"I didn' see you Mum," Stan's face slowly turned bright red. "I thought Ed'ard here'd made a mistake."

"Can't a body pop into the 'ouse fer a cuppa wi'out 'er own son disertin' 'er?" Mrs. Shunpike pulled a teakettle, a spoon and a teacup out of her bag and poked at them with her wand. There was a small puff of greenish smoke, and the kettle poured out tea into the cup. Mrs. Shunpike continued complaining as the spoon stirred her tea for her. "Can't see why I can't bring me tea wi'out bein' left all sudden like. Chocolate's too 'xpensive on this 'ere bus as 'tis."

"Mum," Stan, now beet red, glanced nervously over his shoulder at Draco. "You can't bring yer own food on the Knight Bus. It's 'gainst the rules. _Some people_ might get the wrong idea."

Stan gestured frantically at Draco, who quickly ducked his head behind his book, too proud to admit to eavesdropping. Mrs. Shunpike leaned around her son and glared at Draco, trying to place his features. As recognition slowly showed on her face, her glare turned into an angry scowl.

"You! Boy!" she snapped at Draco, who looked up in surprise. "You're that bastard Malfoy's son. Don' you try to 'ide it neither. I'd know you scum wherever you be."

Mastering his anger Draco looked resolutely across the aisle at her. Slowly counting to five in his head, Draco allowed himself to speak steadily, his head held high.

"I would never deny who I am. I am proud to say that my name is Draco Malfoy."

Stan's eyes widened in shock as his mother's got even narrower. She started breathing heavily and her face turned a peculiar shade of red. With what was clearly a great effort, she drew herself up to her full height and stared down at the young wizard across the aisle from her as she spoke to her son.

"Stan Shunpike I 'ad 'oped to 'ave brought you up not to consort wi' rabble. I _refuse_ to stay one minute wif a Malfoy. Either 'e goes, or I do."

Stan, not knowing what to do, looked back and forth between his mother and his customer. Draco sniffed, closed his book, and stood up. With a wave of his wand his things packed themselves into his suitcase which then hung in the air behind him like a dutiful dog.

"I don't think I will stay here and allow my family name to be insulted," he remarked coolly to Stan. "If you will show me to another bed, I will attempt to ride the rest of the way in relative peace."

Stan gratefully led Draco up a staircase and into the top of the bus. As he went up the stairs, Draco heard Mrs. Shunpike talking to Edward.

"End up just like 'is father that one will in Azkaban. Bad apples the lot. Mind you the mother used to be a'right, but she lost it when she took up wi' that fellow's father. Watch the road; watch the road!"

Draco settled onto his bed and gazed out the window at the jumping landscape. His manner may have been aloof, but it was only hiding a deep shame. He wasn't proud to be a Malfoy, considering what came with that name recently. Honestly he wanted to be accepted. As a Malfoy that was hard enough, but Draco had made enemies on his own as it was. And by turning in his father he knew that anyone remotely connected with Death Eaters would shun him just like the old witch in the bus. With a sigh he leaned back on the cushions and closed his eyes. It would be a long ride to Diagon Alley. 


	4. Chapter 4

AN: Sadly chapter 4 is kind of fluffy. I really do try to avoid it, but sometimes one must surrender to the fluff god. This is really the first time we get into even semi-obvious slash, so please don't be closed minded while you're reading this. Oh and there's good stuff for all the RW/HG shippers out there, myself included. Thanks a bunch and a half to my beta readers! Anyone else who wants to volunteer is welcome. Please read and review. Enjoy. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K.Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 4

"Harry!"

Harry Potter turned away from his book to see Hermione Granger staggering along the hallway under the weight of her school things. Jumping up to help her, he grabbed a book bag and one end of her huge trunk. He led the way into a room across the hall from his. When the two of them had set down the bags and caught their breath, Hermione gave Harry a big hug.

"Harry," she finally let go and sat on the bed. "It's so wonderful to see you. Oh I just can't wait until the Weasleys get here."

"Right. Thanks a lot for starting about your love life as soon as you get here," Harry faked a dramatic pout. "Don't even mention me while you're at it." 

"Oh Harry," Hermione blushed. "You know how glad I am to see you. I didn't think you were upset about Ron and I. And I never meant to"

"'Mione, it gets you every time" Harry laughed and sat down beside her. "I'm just joking. And besides you know I love it that you and Ron are so happy together."

"Glad to hear it. What I _meant_ was that I'm looking forward to giving Mr. and Mrs. Weasley their anniversary presents."

"I am too."

Hermione put the key to her room on a small table by the bed. Looking at the number, a misty smile went across her face. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Oh no. I can just imagine a whole year of Hogwarts around you two lovebirds. Awful the both of you. What is it this time?"

"Oh It's just the room number," Hermione's blush returned. "Ron's lucky number is 15."

"I should've known." A mischievous smile made Harry's eyes shine. "Well be that as it may, Ron and I have _one_ room and _you_ have another. You many _not_ have Ron over here every night or I'll _never_ talk to you again."

"Harry!"

"Harry!"

Harry and Hermione looked to the door where a breathless Ron was swiftly turning a dark crimson. Harry laughed and walked over to slap his friend on the back. Ron was even shyer about relationships than Hermione. As he realised that Harry had been joking his face returned to its normal be-freckled shade.

"Hello Ron."

Hermione strode over to Ron and stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. Ron's ears started turning pink again, but this time with pleasure. He grinned foolishly down at his girlfriend as Harry rolled his eyes.

"Well as charming as you two are together," Harry said loudly, trying to get Ron's attention. "Ron and I have to get his things into _our_ room. And there is that little matter of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's present."

Ron and Hermione stepped apart. Ron and Harry both bent to carry Ron's trunk into the boy's room. Hermione followed them and sat on one of the beds as Ron began to unpack. She waved her wand and a piece of parchment and a quill flew towards her. With a concentrated look on her face she read off the school supplies they would each need to buy.

"Alright we each need a list of school books that should be relatively the same, except Ron isn't taking Care of Magical Creatures, Ron and I aren't taking Defence Against the Dark Arts, I'm not taking Herbology, and you two aren't taking Advanced Arithmancy or Spelling."

"'Mione, why are you taking Spelling?" Ron raised an eyebrow and stopped folding his dark blue dress robe. "Your writing's perfect."

"Silly," she reached out and tweaked Ron's long nose. "It's not regular writing. It's spell-writing. Like what I did during the war."

Ron and Harry's faces fell and Hermione bit her lip. She had been safe in a hidden Ministry of Magic office all throughout the war, but her two best friends had been out on the field. She knew from the look they always got when the war was mentioned that they had seen and done things she couldn't even begin to imagine. She wished they would talk to her about it, but she knew that they never talked of their service, even to each other. Silently reprimanding herself, she cleared her throat and gave a falsely bright smile.

"As far as supplies go, we have most of those. Now all that's left is a present for Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Do either of you have any ideas?"

"Not a one," said Ron, shaking off his sombre mood. "Harry?"

"I don't know," Harry laughed as he caught sight of Hermione scribbling franticly across her parchment. "I think we'd better let 'Mione deal with this one. It looks like she's got the gifts already picked out without us."

"Oh well," Hermione's cheeks turned slightly pink. "It's just a few ideas. Perhaps we should make our way to Gringotts now if we want to be done by the time Ron's mum and dad arrive."

The three friends locked up their rooms and went out the back of the Leaky Cauldron to the brick-walled courtyard. Harry tapped the appropriate brick three times and the wall dissolved to reveal the twisting cobbled street of Diagon Alley. Harry walked through the arch, closely followed by Ron and Hermione, but had to jump back again as the Knight Bus popped into sight right in front of him. The familiar figure of Stan Shunpike jumped out of the bus and held open the door. Catching sight of Harry, he grinned and waved.

"'Ullo 'Arry! Come to do yer shopin' 'ave you?"

Before Harry could reply, Stan turned back to the bus and the people who were beginning to stream out of it. As witches and wizards, most showing slight signs of motion sickness, left the bus, Harry and his friends stood respectfully to the side, waiting for the bus to clear their pathway. As they waited, the last person came out of the bus carrying his trunk backwards down the steps. Harry watched appreciatively as muscles rippled under the stranger's silver shirtsleeves and sunlight glinted off his pale blond hair, pulled back in a short ponytail. Stan jumped back into the bus and it popped out of sight again. As the stranger bent over to check the lock on his trunk, Hermione brushed off her robes decisively.

"Well, now we can get to work."

The stranger stood up abruptly and turned around. Harry's heart stopped for a moment and he heard his companions gasp. Without looking at each other, he and Hermione grabbed Ron's shoulders simultaneously to hold him back in case they needed to. Harry took a deep breath and broke the uncomfortable silence.

"Hello Malfoy."

Draco Malfoy looked down at Harry from his superior height. His eyes flickered towards Ron and Hermione, his face impassive.

"Potter," he said civilly with a slight inclination of his head.

"Look Malfoy," Ron said loudly. "We don't want your type around here, so just sod off!"

"My mistake Weasley." Malfoy smirked as he saw Hermione's hand tighten on her boyfriend's shoulder. "Last time I was here this was a free place. I suppose you and your family must have bought it since then with I suppose you have one of your many siblings behind the bar?"

"That's enough both of you."

Harry stepped in front of his best friend to shield him from Malfoy's taunts, and to shield Malfoy from Ron's inevitable attack. Not pausing to wonder over Malfoy's slight hesitation, he met and held the other wizard's eyes. Looking into Malfoy's perfect face, he had to remind himself that this was his rival and he should ignore the other young man's near perfection. The air between the wizards was tense and momentarily filled with an uncomfortable energy. Harry clenched his teeth and beckoned to Ron and Hermione over his shoulder. The three companions walked away, Ron being slightly propelled by the other two.

"When I get my hands on him" Ron muttered.

Harry strode along next to his friends with a firm and steady gait. Although he desperately wanted to, he didn't look back. He could still feel Malfoy's eyes on him as they turned a corner towards Gringotts. 


	5. Chapter 5

AN: I'm getting tired of reading all these stories about Draco dominating Harry and forcing him to realise his gayness. I mean wouldn't a family as uptight about a pure wizard bloodline (which could be translated into the human racism and Voldemort and Death Eaters into Hitler and the nazis, etc.) be homophobic as well? (That should give you guys a clue about where I'm taking this story.) Anyway I'm trying to play up Narcissa's character. I always felt like there was a reason why she never spoke in person. And remember that she wanted Draco to stay close to her while he was at school. I'm a pretty big supporter of her being a nice person dominated by evil Mr. Malfoy. (In case anyone is confused Aquilao was Draco's eagle owl. Yes the name is semi-randomly selected, but in the real books we're not on a first name basis with Draco's pets, so I had to embellish. And he has a new owl because well that would be giving things away, now wouldn't it?) Please ignore the long author's rant. Many thanks to my beautiful beta readers and please read and review. Enjoy. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J.K.Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 5

Draco Malfoy sat at a private table in the Leaky Cauldron trying to pretend that he was interested in his copy of the _Daily Prophet_. Actually he couldn't have cared less who the contenders for the open position of Minister of Magic were. What he was really doing was eavesdropping on the loud conversations from the Weasley family's table. He gritted his teeth as he heard his fellow students congratulating Mr. and Mrs. Weasley on thirty years of marriage. It irked him that other people were happy when he and his mother, who had been so instrumental in aiding the fall of the Dark Lord, were forced into solitary sadness and decline. He knew that his morose attitude was clearly out of place where everyone else had caught the Weasley's contagious good humour, but he privately enjoyed the attention he was getting.

"Harry Potter," Mrs. Weasley's voice roared over the din. "If you didn't have that head of hair, I'd think you were one of my own boys, you know me so well!"

Potter. That star child of the whole wizarding community. Draco's fingers clenched automatically. He wished, as usual, that he could somehow gain even half the respect and admiration that Potter got as a mere infant. The mutual dislike for Potter and his followers had probably been the only thing Draco enjoyed about his father's elevated Death Eater status. The young wizard flinched as his familiar nightmare images popped up in his mind's eye. Forcing back the wave of loathing for his father mixed with pity for himself, he slammed his fist on the table as if by beating the wood he could make the frightening feelings disappear.

"Mr. Malfoy, sir?" Tom was beside his table in a moment. "Is there ought I can do to be of service?"

"Um, no," Draco never blushed, but at that moment he sincerely felt like he could. Aware of many pairs of eyes fixed on him, he made sure to hold his head up especially straight. He gestured regally to his dish. "Well, perhaps you might clear my plate."

Tom took the dish and walked off. As Draco watched his retreating back, he caught Potter staring at him. For a few moments their eyes met. Draco was stunned to realise that Potter held no anger in his bright green eyes, only questions and confusion. Draco broke away from their staring and rose to leave. Gathering up his slightly crumpled copy of the Daily Prophet, he stalked across the room towards the stairs. Carefully avoiding Potter's eyes, he walked past the Weasley table.

"See Mum. I told you he was here," Ron Weasley made no attempt to lower his voice. "We ran into him _twice_ while we were buying our supplies. Stupid git. He won't be so cocky when we're back at Hogwarts with the rest of Gryffindor. Harry'll slaughter him in Quidditch. Not that he was ever any good anyway..."

Draco stiffened, but made himself keep walking towards the stairs. Yes, he had lost some of his pride, but that didn't mean he enjoyed being insulted by Weasley and he wasn't stupid enough to try to pick a fight. He knew that if he confronted the other wizard he would have a whole family of Weasleys to deal with, instead of one. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, another voice from that table carried over to him. 

"Ron," that was Potter. "Shut up."

Draco glanced back in surprise. Potter was looking at him again or had he ever looked away? This time there was a sad look in his deep green eyes. Draco hurried up the stairs, flustered by the actions of his long-time rival. Pulling the key from his pocket, he unlocked the door to his room. Slamming the door shut behind him, he flopped down on the bed ran his fingers tiredly through his hair. What would ever make Potter stand up for him? It's not as if Draco had done anyone any favours. But perhaps

Draco sat bolt upright. Potter must have found out. But how? Dumbledore, obviously. Those two were always together during the war; they even killed the Dark Lord together. With a scowl Draco slammed his fist petulantly against his pillow. He didn't want Potter's pity, or anyone else's for that matter. He and his mother would do just fine on their own. Even as he thought it Draco knew it was a lie. His mother was swiftly becoming a wreck. Cast out by all her former friends, she lived cooped up in their huge old house with only the house elves for company. She wasn't able to work to support their former lifestyle, and Draco had to go to school. He had offered to stay out, but she insisted that he would be safe with Dumbledore and that his education was more important. Because of her obstinacy she was forced to live in a lifestyle much poorer than the one she was used to.

A rush of feathers and the arrival of a huge black and white owl ended Draco's internal troubles. Altair, Draco's new northern hawk owl, dropped a letter in his master's lap and flew to sit on a mantle where he preened his black and white feathers. Draco smiled fondly at his new pet, and opened the letter he knew would be from his mother.

__

Dearest Draco,

Already I miss you. I hope your shopping went well. I miss Aquilao, but I believe Altair is lovely and his disposition is charming. Even Tinder, who as you know is terrified of owls, didn't mind him nibbling some food in the kitchen with us. Whatever made you pick that name for him?

I am quite looking forward to your first Hogsmeade trip as I am planning to go there as well. You know I tend to worry about your safety, my dear, but I am sure that Severus will take good care of you. He really is very grateful for what you did, even if his gruff nature won't let him show it.

Good luck my little dragon,

Mummy 

Draco folded the letter and stared off into the distance. It made him sad to think of his mother relegated to the level of eating in the company of house elves. And in the kitchen no less. Draco immediately reprimanded himself for having such thoughts. He was having trouble adjusting to the fact they his family was no longer supremely wealthy. True they were not poor, but the splendour and luxury he had been raised with was gone.

He had almost slipped that afternoon when he had first run into what Professor Snape called the "dream team". Making stabs at the Weasley's near-empty purse had become such a second nature to him that he had forgotten their sudden accumulation of wealth during the war. Joke shops seemed to be a very lucrative business, Draco thought bitterly. In his head he heard his own words repeatedly mocking him, " I suppose you and your family must have bought it with I suppose you have one of your many siblings behind the bar?" He had been about to talk about the Weasley's poverty before he remembered that they were now better off than he was. How had he lost so much control that he had made that stupid blunder? The question forced him to turn his thoughts reluctantly back to another person: Potter.

Potter's polite, if not familiar greeting had thrown Draco off guard almost as seeing his classmates. Now that he knew Dumbledore had told Potter about his actions, it wasn't quite as surprising. Perhaps the Boy Who Lived now considered Draco worthy of a courteous manner. As Draco thought this he shook his head. Potter had bothered him since the day they met in Madame Malkin's shop when Malfoy had insulted Hagrid's lowly position at Hogwarts. Why couldn't Draco be allowed to like whom he pleased without caring about their rank? Not that the one comment had made much difference; Potter had clearly disliked him from the moment they started speaking. And on that first train ride to Hogwarts hadn't Potter been the one to hurl the first insult? Draco had made an effort to be friends with the other boy and had instead been snubbed. Wasn't it natural for children to repeat what they heard at home? He still thought that Potter was unfair to have judged him on that. Draco's thoughts were interrupted yet again when he heard someone walking past his door.

"Goodnight Ginny."

Speak of the devil, Draco thought wryly. Potter's deepening voice was recognisable anywhere. Trying to erase Potter from his unwelcome place in Draco's thoughts, the pale wizard took a piece of parchment and a quill out of his trunk. He sat down at a small desk in his room and began to write a reply to his mother, ignoring the small voice in the back of his head that repeated, _What about Potter_


	6. Chapter 6

AN: Hi there. Remember me? I'm that weirdo who said she was going to be writing a story. Well I'm back. Wow I haven't written in so long. But hey, maybe putting in this chapter will inspire me to get my act together. Anyway here's the latest installment of my Draco/Harry fic. I'm not sure why, but I got MAJOR writer's block on this one. Any and all comments welcome! 

Warning: I've already got warnings up, but this is the chapter where it actually starts being slashy. So if you don't want to read it, don't. If you feel a need to comment on it, go ahead, but I'd really rather people stick to comments with some constructive stuff in them. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 6

"That's everything then," Ron said as he flung his book bag onto one of the seats in their compartment. Harry sat down on another seat and yawned. He and Ron had stayed up late last night doing some last minute Herbology homework. Hermione, sitting across from Harry, gave him a disapproving look. She had told them to start their homework earlier, but they hadn't listened and now she would have to deal with them being irritable and tired. She was about to open her mouth to voice her disapproval for the tenth time, when Ginny stuck her head into their compartment.

"Come on out you three. Mum wants to say goodbye to us all," as she popped her head out of the compartment she called over her shoulder. "You've got some dirt on your nose Ron."

Ron scowled and rubbed his nose. Harry saw a misty look on Hermione's face and quickly went outside. As he was walking out he heard her say,

"Oh Ron, just like when we first met."

Platform 93/4 was emptying swiftly, so Harry had no trouble picking the Weasleys out of the dwindling crowd. Glancing at his wristwatch, he saw that the dial was pointing to "time to get on the train." Rushing over, he was pulled into a huge hug by Mrs. Weasley. She let him go and moved on to Ron and Hermione, talking all the while.

"Now you all have a good time at Hogwarts. I don't want to hear about any trouble. Merlin knows we've had enough of that. I expect you all to do very well and have a good time. Now get back on that train before it leaves without you."

Mrs. Weasley bustled them back on the train and they hung their heads out a window to wave goodbye.

"Goodbye Mrs. Weasley," Harry called. "I'll see you at Christmas."

As the train picked up speed, Harry, Ron, and Hermione pulled their heads back inside and returned to their compartment. Harry sat down and leaned back, enjoying the comfort of the deeply squishy seats. Across from him Ron sat with his head back and his eyes closed. Hermione, realising that neither of her companions showed any inclination to talk, took out her Arithmancy book and started reading. The silence in the compartment was a comfortable one, broken only by the turning pages of Hermione's book and the train moving along the tracks.

Harry listened to the train and thought wistfully of his home with Sirius. He always enjoyed his years at Hogwarts, but for the first time in his life he was living in a home with family. Not blood relations like the Dursleys, not blood relations like the Dursleys, but with his caring, loving, and funny godfather Sirius Black. Harry had thought of him as an overly friendly uncle or an adult older brother ever since he realised that Sirius was not a psychotic murderer. After the war, Harry had been unsure of what to expect in his life. It had been the happiest moment he could remember when Dumbledore announced that it would be safe for him to move in with Sirius. The thought of moving away from the Dursleys had completely sustained him during so much of the war and the final reality was in no way a disappointment. Harry found himself wishing he could exchange the daily entertainment of the Great Hall for the quiet companionship of Sirius' highly interesting cooking.

Harry was jolted out of his thoughts by Ginny's return. She sat down next to Hermione and the two of them started having a very loud whispered conversation about Lavender Brown and the Patil sisters. Harry just shook his head and tried to ignore them, waiting for Ron's inevitable reaction. He did not have to wait long. At a particularly large jolt of the train Ron woke up and heard Ginny and Hermione gossiping. With a scowl he sat up straight.

"See here you two," he said gruffly. "How am I supposed to sleep with you two endlessly yakking on about nothing?"

"Well if you hadn't procrastinated and left all your Herbology for last night you wouldn't need to sleep on the train where we have a right to talk!" Ginny's eyes flashed as she scowled back at her brother.

Harry caught Hermione's eyes and she nodded to him. Standing up she took hold of Ginny's arm.

"Ginny, let's let them be," Hermione's voice was firm, but not overly demanding. "They're too boring, and anyway I want to say hello to Parvati and Lavender. I haven't seen them in so long."

Ginny allowed herself to be drawn out of the compartment by Hermione, making one final face at her brother as she left. Harry breathed a sigh of relief and looked back over at Ron. His friend was still scowling, but some of the extra colour had left his cheeks. He stared out the window angrily. Harry knew that his friend wasn't really that mad, he was just tired and grouchy.

"Some Herbology homework, eh?"

"Yeah," Ron replied. "Who's the new teacher again?"

"I think Sirius said her name was Nimy or something like that."

"Well whatever her name is she assigns a lot of homework!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Bet Hermione's going to love her."

They sat silently for a moment, each thinking their own thoughts. Harry was remembering Professor Sprout. She had been one of the first teachers to get killed once the war started. He hadn't known her that well, but he remembered her being very straightforward about things with a frankness that he had liked. He remembered meeting Justin Finch-Fletchly right after it had happened. That moment made Harry realise why Hufflepuffs didn't have as much of a drive to prove themselves as the other students. Professor McGonagall was a wonderful head of house and Harry had loads of respect for her, but the one thing she lacked was caring. Hufflepuffs were not only given rules and supported at Quidditch matches by their head of house, but they had been on personally friendly terms with Professor Sprout.

"Who's going to be the new head of Hufflepuff then?" It seemed Ron had been thinking the same thing as Harry.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "It's hard to imagine Herbology without Sprout around."

"I know. What if McGonagall had died?"

"I don't really want to imagine that."

"Hey, did Sirius tell you who was going to do Defence Against the Dark Arts this year?"

"No," Harry said glumly. "All he told me was about the new Herbology teacher."

"I wish he would," said Ron. "Dumbledore might make Snape the Dark Arts teacher if we don't get someone good, and you know what that would mean."

"I don't think I could deal with failing Potions and Defence," Harry said. "God, what if Snape taught two classes? 'No Potter you may not breathe unless I say so. Oh, I'd better let you live until potions Longbottom's already had a heart attack and I need someone to terrorise.'"

Ron snickered at Harry's impression of their least favourite teacher. Harry tried to hold on to Snape's ever-present look of disdain, but he soon caught Ron's infectious laughter. When Hermione returned to the compartment she saw her two best friends rolling about in their seats with tears of mirth streaming down their cheeks. She was secretly pleased that they could finally enjoy themselves, but remembered that she had been upset with them, so she hid her smile and sat down next to Ron.

"Honestly," she said, in a very strict tone of voice. "I'd think that you two would have got over this sort of behaviour, but I suppose you _three_-year-olds must be allowed to goof off from time to time."

Ron and Harry's laughter subsided into mere chuckles. They both knew very well that Hermione wasn't in the least bit angry. Ron took Hermione's hand and patted it absently, trying to suppress the few tiny giggles that escaped him at odd intervals.

"How were Lavender and Parvati?"

"Lavender's done something with her hair. I think she used a muggle dye, but she might have charmed it, but at any rate she's got reddish tints in her hair now."

Ron, unnoticed by Hermione, raised his eyebrows at Harry and mouthed "help me". As their friend started discussing Parvati's new class list, Harry got a very mean idea. He stood up and made a great show of stretching his arms and legs. With a slightly lopsided smile, he interrupted Hermione.

"Look you guys keep talking," he said. "I'm going up to the front to get some food. I'll be back soon."

Hermione nodded while Ron, shocked at Harry's betrayal, tried to resign himself to listening to Hermione's gossip. Harry himself slipped into the corridor. He started walking towards the front of the train. As he passed one compartment he heard a bang. Worried, he looked in, but realising who the passengers were, he hurried along. It was never wise to barge into a compartment where Neville Longbottom was showing Seamus Finnigan a new spell he'd learned. At the front of the train Harry saw that there was a small crowd around the woman with the snack cart. Harry pushed his way through, taking advantage of his seniority, and bought pasties, pumpkin juice, and sweets for himself and his friends.

As Harry was walking back to his compartment, his pockets bursting with chocolate frogs and his arms full of food, he almost bumped into someone coming out of the lavatory. It was Malfoy. For a moment they froze, face to face in the narrow corridor. Harry noticed again the near godlike beauty in Malfoy's pale grey eyes Harry hurriedly bent over and started to pick up spilled candies. The very last thing he wanted was to be attracted to such a bastard as Malfoy. Who cared if he had turned in one of Voldemort's top supporters? He was still a rude and stuck up git. Harry almost had himself convinced of this when Malfoy got down on his hands and knees to help him pick up the sweets.

"Thanks," Harry said hesitantly.

The word sounded strange on his tongue. He'd never thanked a Malfoy before. The two of them stood up. They stared at each other again, but without the usual hatred. Harry suddenly noticed how close the corridor was forcing them to stand. Malfoy nodded to Harry, unsmiling, and walked away. Harry watched him walking for a moment, and then returned to his compartment.

"Sweets," exclaimed Ron, his eyes lighting up. "Excellent."

Harry sat down as Ron opened a chocolate frog. Hermione reached for a flask of pumpkin juice and looked up at Harry.

"What's wrong Harry?" she said. "You look upset."

"It's nothing," Harry felt his cheeks turning slightly pink. He hoped Hermione would never find out he was thinking of a pair of cool grey eyes.

"It's probably just the train," said Ron, his mouth full of chocolate frog. "You know he doesn't like these curves 'Mione. Oh look Harry, you're on a chocolate frog card now!"

The two young wizards started chatting again, but Hermione's eyes narrowed. Ron may have been oblivious, but unless Hermione was much mistaken, Harry was bothered about something. Very bothered indeed. 


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Probably the longest chapter I've written, but I had housecleaning to do. I realize that I'm not big on writing action, but now that we're actually at Hogwarts I may be able to pick up the pace! Go me. No promises though. I also realize that I lifted a lot of Dumbledore's speech, but he does say the same things over and over in the books, so I feel justified. Oh yeah, and I wrote a school song! 

Warning: I've already got warnings up, but this is one of the chapters where it gets slashy. So if you don't want to read it, don't. If you feel a need to comment on it, go ahead, but I'd really rather people stick to comments with some constructive stuff in them. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 7

Draco sat at the end of the Slytherin table and stared at his hands. As usual Crabbe and Goyle sat off to one side, but otherwise, they were alone. Their loyalty to him had remained unwavering over the two years since they had seen each other. Draco knew he should be happy for that, but he also realised that they stayed with him because they were too stupid to do anything for themselves. He felt sure that if they had any brains they would be avoiding him like the rest of the Slytherins at the table.

Draco glanced to the other end of the table where students had clustered. He could see people smiling and talking animatedly. While he was looking he briefly caught Pansy Parkinson's eye. The brown haired girl had admired Draco greatly from their first year. Even though he tried to show his disdain for her in their fifth year, she had not left him alone. But all that had changed, like so much in Draco's life, with the war. Pansy tossed her head and spoke loudly.

"You know, if so many of us had to leave, it's sad that we couldn't at least keep the _loyal_ ones," she glanced pointedly in Draco's direction, stressing certain words as she spoke. "_Some_ people would betray even their own _families_ if it suited them."

Draco clenched his teeth and glared back at his hands. He didn't know how Pansy knew what he had done, but he was sure that with her mouth it would be all over the school immediately. He had made sure that the Ministry wouldn't publicise his and his mother's involvement in ending the war; he didn't want other people's pity. Of course Dumbledore had to know because he had been leading the defence, but he had promised not to tell anyone. But he had apparently broken that promise once already.

Draco peered past the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables at Potter. The other wizard was laughing with Weasley and Granger. Probably some joke about Draco stopped himself. He didn't know what Potter was thinking. He would have given a fortune to be in Potter's mind earlier that day. Draco wasn't sure what had made him help the other boy pick up his dropped sweets, but he was sure that he had felt very strange afterwards. When Potter had thanked him a warm and friendly feeling had crept through Draco. Then Potter had looked at him. Draco was used to them sizing each other up every time they saw one another, but not when that look was without anger. This time he had felt like he was being reviewed, strangely enough, with pleasure on the part of the viewer. And even stranger, he had been pleased at the review Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted. 

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts."

Dumbledore stood at the long staff table in front of the four house tables in Great Hall, his arms spread wide. He wore his usual twinkling smile, but the sharp-eyed observer could spot a sense of care and weariness that was uncommon. He beamed out at the students his smile only faltering slightly when he looked at the Slytherin table. Just under half the Slytherin students had been pulled out of Hogwarts during the war for one reason or another. Rumour had it that most of the students who had left were now at Durmstrang, but nobody had officially verified the statement. Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued his speech.

"Professor McGonagall will be bringing in the first years any moment now, but before she does I would like to make an announcement to all you returning students. The student body this year will be slightly different. You yourselves are being held back two years to make up for the years you missed. We have lost many students. The students who would have been first years two years ago and last year are also being held back, but to attempt a return to normal school life, or as normal as we can be here, a new batch of first year students is arriving now as well. In other words the first years will make up a very large percentage of the students and they will range in age from eleven to thirteen."

Students muttered uncomfortably, not sure of how to take this news. Draco couldn't really care less. He knew that none of them would be in his classes, but he wasn't sure why Dumbledore thought they should know. He watched a few other students having similar reactions to his. Crabbe and Goyle, of course, did nothing but stare blankly at Dumbledore. The Headmaster raised his hand for silence and the muttering ceased.

"I tell you this because there will be some tension between the first year students. Older students might resent the younger ones, and the younger ones might aggravate their elders. It is my hope that as more mature young people you can try and alleviate the tension and not succumb to it yourselves."

Again Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards the Slytherin table. Draco smirked as Dumbledore went on to talk about restorations to the school and the responsibility of older students. No wonder they had a reputation of being troublemakers. Not that it wasn't true, but if the teaching staff promoted the idea all the time they would never get a chance to change that. At least one teacher would never put forth that opinion.

Draco's eyes moved along the staff table to rest on Professor Snape. The potions master sat with his usual scowl, his long greasy hair hanging in his face. His back was turned slightly towards Draco, but as if he sensed someone watching him, he turned and looked at his favourite student. Draco shivered as he saw Snape's eyes. The left one was small and black, but the right was large, round, and dark green. Draco knew that Snape's new magical eye was there because his father, Lucius Malfoy had plucked the other one out.

The professor's normal eye crinkled slightly as he looked down his long nose, giving a hint that a smile might be forthcoming. Snape never smiled with happiness, but Draco knew that this was as close to affection as the man could muster. Over the past years Snape's relationship with Draco had grown from teacher and head of house, to personal mentor and supporter. Draco had been worried that Snape would resent having his life saved by a student, but that had not been the case. The two were never particularly friendly to observers, but Draco knew that behind their mutual austerity and cordiality there was more than just respect. Draco smiled lopsidedly back at his teacher.

Snape's magical eye rolled suddenly towards Pansy, and his face returned to its usual scowl. Draco couldn't see anything but the girl looking down at the table. Bending slightly, he looked under the table. Pansy was comparing nail varnishes under the table instead of listening to Dumbledore's speech. Draco straightened and smirked again. She had apparently forgotten Snape's new ability to see through wooden tables. He looked up at Snape, but the teacher was watching Dumbledore again.

The doors to the entrance hall opened. Professor McGonagall walked in, leading a huge line of new students. They walked close together, staring at the ceiling as they went. One small boy with bright red hair tripped on his overly long robes. Draco rolled his eyes at the thought of yet another Weasley. McGonagall herded the first years to the front as older students shifted in their seats and prepared for the almost endless sorting ceremony that would surely follow. Argus Filch stumped to the front of the Great Hall and placed the Sorting Hat on its customary stool. Draco watched the first years shiver and stare wide eyed at the hat. Suddenly it opened the rip in its brim and began to sing.

_Gather 'round me all you learners_

Who come from near and far

To hear of life at Hogwarts

Both sombre and bizarre

Founded by the bravest

And smartest of the lot

The truest and the purest

Picked out this chartless spot

To build a school of witchcraft

And wizardry renowned

They built up this fine castle

Then houses they did found

Gryffindor was bravest

He shone with might and main

His house is known for valour

His spark will never wane

Ravenclaw was wisest

And knowledge was her love

Her students all are bookworms

With learning hand in glove

Hufflepuff was loyal

And unafraid of work

Her students here at Hogwarts

Assignments never shirk

Slytherin was cunning

The slyest of the four

His students reach their goals

And stay purest to the core

Our history is noble,

Please have no doubt of that

It's highest point to my mind

Is me, the Sorting Hat

I'll read into your psyche

Each high point and each flaw

I've never made a wrong choice

It's like a magic law

So try me on you students

And let me read your mind

I'll tell you what your house is

For this I was designed

Draco applauded with the rest. He appreciated the sorting hat's songs each year, but the following ceremony usually bored him to death. As "Ackden, Shandley" went up to the hat, Draco scanned his eyes over the rest of the new students. He tried to predict which of them would get into Slytherin. He felt sure of at least three of them, but didn't really pay attention. Instead he stared blankly at the table in front of him, vaguely aware of the periodic cheering that erupted from his table.

His daydreaming was cut short when he saw a flash of red out of the corner of his eye. Looking up he saw the short redhead who he'd assumed was a Weasley sitting in front of him. Confused, Draco looked along the table. All the other new Slytherins were sitting at the far end watching the rest of the sorting. Draco turned back to the little redhead and saw that he was being regarded by a pair of calm green eyes. With a sceptically raised eyebrow, Draco addressed the boy.

"And you are?"

"Nat," the boy replied quietly.

"Nat?"

"Nathair Merosus."

Draco smiled to hear the same slight challenge he himself used to use when he was introduced to people, just daring someone to make fun of his name.

"Why are you in Slytherin, Merosus?" Draco noticed the boy's jaw harden at the formal use of his last name.

"I'd have to be seriously defective not to be," his voice was still high, and he spoke with a heavy Scottish brogue. "My mum's family's been in Slytherin since it was founded practically. Supposedly we're a distant offshoot of some branch of Slytherin's family, but I think Mum's just making that one up. We're supposed to be really proud of being in this house. My dad would've had a heart attack if I didn't make it. It's even in my name; Nathair means snake. So you see I really didn't much of a choice."

Draco found himself smiling. This boy was entertaining in a strange sort of way.

"This is Vincent Crabbe, and that's Gregory Goyle," Draco nodded towards them as they were introduced. "And I'm Draco Malfoy."

Draco's smile faded as he saw a shadow flicker through Nathair's eyes.

"I see you recognise the name."

"Who doesn't?" Nathair shrugged. "I mean, the Malfoys are one of the oldest wizarding families. I just didn't know you were still at Hogwarts."

"Apparently I am," Draco stared at the other boy's face, trying to see if he was referring to his father's arrest. "Tell me Nathair"

"Nat," the other boy interrupted him apologetically. "Call me Nat, please. I've hated Nathair all my life."

"Yes, I can relate. So, Nat, why did you sit over here with the three of us instead of at the other end with the rest?"

Nat looked down the table at the other Slytherins. His left nostril rose slightly in contempt. Draco again saw himself in the other boy's face.

"Them. They looked too boring. Besides, people who sit alone usually have more thoughts to offer than those who stay in a group. It's like animals. The smarter ones fend for themselves while the sheep stay in a flock."

"I'm afraid I don't know much about sheep."

Draco said the word like it was a foreign concept, and not one he particularly wanted to familiarise himself with. As soon as he spoke he regretted it. Nat's cheeks turned red and a scowl began to grow on his forehead. He crossed his arms and glared at Draco.

"Look Malfoy, if you're going to insult my family I'll sit elsewhere."

"Calm down," Draco nodded as he spoke. He was strangely pleased with Nat and he didn't want to chase him off. "I meant no disrespect to you or your family. I'm just betraying my ignorance."

Nat's brow cleared and his face settled into a lopsided smile reminiscent of Draco's own. The cheering ceased as Dumbledore stood up at the staff table. Draco looked up, surprised that the sorting was already over. Nat opened his mouth to speak, but Draco hushed him with a gesture.

"Welcome to you all," Dumbledore said jovially. "Before we enjoy our sumptuous feast, I would like to give you a few words to mull over. They are nostrum, tchotchke, hundle, and bon ton. Thank you."

This speech was met with a brief flurry of applause, which was cut short by the appearance of food all along the tables. Draco watched Nat's eyes widen at the sight of all the food appearing on their golden plates. Draco laughed at Nat's expression and filled his plate with food. All along the five tables students and staff alike were swiftly consuming salads, soups, pasties, meats, bowls of fruit, and pitchers of pumpkin juice.

"Draco," Nat said around a mouthful of steak. "Who are all those teachers?"

Draco looked up at the staff table. "I assume you know Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall on his right. She's head of Gryffindor and teaches transfiguration. Next to her is Flitwick. He's the charms teacher and head of Ravenclaw. That witch with the purple hat is Sinistra: Astronomy. The huge man who looks like a fur-ball is Hagrid. He teaches Care of Magical Creatures."

"I've heard of him," Nat interrupted Draco. "He's that half-giant one, right?"

"Yes," Draco's mouth twitched slightly, showing his distaste. "He used to just be the groundskeeper, but then Dumbledore made him a professor. Now he's some official emissary for the giants. Don't worry he won't hurt you, he's just not too bright." Draco added, seeing a worried look on Nat's face. "On the other side of Dumbledore is Professor Snape. He's the head of Slytherin and the potions master. He seems strict, but don't be too worried. Just don't show it if you're nervous: he hates scare-cats. Oh, and watch out for his eye: it can see through anything. Next to him is Vector, she teaches Arithmancy. And next to her well I don't know them."

Draco frowned and examined two new teachers at the staff table. One was a thin witch with greying blond hair and small oval glasses. The other was a tall looking wizard with a black beard and bright blue eyes. They both seemed quite at ease sitting in front of the students and were chatting animatedly with each other.

"I suppose they're the new Herbology and Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers," Draco said. "I don't know if you've heard this, but we never keep Defence teachers. I've never had the same one twice in my years here, and some people say the position is cursed. I doubt it though. Whichever one of them isn't the Defence teacher is teaching Herbology. The old Herbology teacher died."

"Oh," Nat looked down at his plate. "Did you like him?"

"Her," Draco corrected. "I didn't know much about her, but she was alright. She was head of Hufflepuff, so they're the ones who you should ask if you ever feel like talking to a Hufflepuff. Anyway that woman on the end is Madame Hooch. She'll be teaching you to fly and she referees quidditch matches."

The two of them discussed classes and quidditch, with the occasional grunt from Crabbe or Goyle, until the puddings had been almost finished. Nat was looking around the Great Hall at the other students when he caught sight of Harry Potter.

"Say Draco, is that Harry Potter?"

"Yes," Draco said tersely. "It is. Saint Potter. I should warn you that he and his two little friends get could get away with murder here. All the teachers, except Snape, think he's the perfect little golden boy, so he acts like he owns the place."

Nat looked back at Draco with an understanding look on his face.

"You don't like Potter?"

"No, I don't," Draco said dryly. "You could say there's been a feud going on between us since our first year here."

"Ah. Who are his friends?"

"That plain looking girl next to him is Granger. She's the top of our class and loves it. The redhead with the shabby robes is Weasley. You're lucky you just got here now. The school used to be swarming with Weasleys, but thankfully it's just Weasel and his bratty sister."

"I don't think Granger looks _that_ plain"

Before Draco had a chance to respond to this obvious lack of judgement, Dumbledore stood up to make his final speech.

"Now that we are all fed and watered," Draco rolled his eyes at the familiar beginning of Dumbledore's speech. "I would like to formally welcome you to Hogwarts. As you all know, this year is a year of rebuilding. We have just gone through a dreadful ordeal and now we are reconstructing our lives. I rely on all of you to help us do this. To start the term I would like to relay to you some warnings. First of all I would like to inform first years, and remind everyone else, that the forest on the grounds is strictly forbidden, this year particularly so. We do not know exactly who or what is in there, and I do not want any students running into any former supporters of Voldemort."

Draco shuddered along with the rest of the student body. After experiencing the power of the Dark-Lord first hand, many students had increased their fear. Draco knew that he was dead now, but still certain memories lingered.

"I would also like to inform you all of the work being done to restore the lake." Dumbledore continued ignoring the chill among the students. " Merchiefteness Murcus is assisting us in repairing the damage, as is our new Herbology teacher. Which, I think brings me to introductions."

Dumbledore turned slightly to the two new teachers and smiled. They both stood up looking slightly nervous. There was scattered applause for a moment, but it faded into unenthusiastic silence as the two sat back down.

"Professors Nimity and Myrmidian are the two new professors this year. Professor Nimity is your new Herbology teacher. She will instruct you in the greenhouses and possibly show you how to assist in repairing damages made to our many valuable plants. Professor Myrmidian is your new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Have no fear for he is fully capable of filling all the requirements for this position and many more. He is highly knowledgeable of curses, informed about hexes, and an excellent chess player if anyone wants to challenge him."

Draco saw Dumbledore glance at the Gryffindor table again. Looking over there himself, Draco saw Granger beaming sickly at Weasley who had a strange grin on his face and was trying to tell Potter something, but the other wizard was staring off into space. Draco sneered elegantly. Then he realised that Potter wasn't staring off into space, he was staring at Draco. Their eyes caught and held for a moment, but Draco looked away.

"And now," Dumbledore continued, "before we all go off to rest our heads in the softness of our pillows and our minds in the land of dreams, I would like to propose a toast."

Golden goblets full of pumpkin juice appeared at everyone's seats. Draco leaned over and told Crabbe and Goyle not to drink it yet. The other students took them and waited for Dumbledore to keep speaking.

"Let us stand and raise our glasses in honour of all our friends and teachers who were lost during the war. They gave their lives bravely to our cause and we will always remember them. To friends."

The students raised their glasses and echoed him.

"Now if students will please follow their prefects to their common rooms. Off you go!" 

Draco stood with the rest and followed Pansy, the new Slytherin prefect, out of the Great Hall. Nat walked next to him with Crabbe and Goyle in their usual positions behind. Draco sighed as they headed across the entrance hall. Just before he went down the stairs to the dungeon, he felt someone looking at him. Turning, he caught Potter's eyes fixed on him. Draco frowned not understanding why Potter would stare at him so. The two stood across the hall from each other surrounded by moving students, locked in their silent stare. Potter looked away when someone bumped into him and he walked up the large marble staircase with his friends. Draco turned to go to the Slytherin common room. Potter was very confusing and Draco would be wondering about that look long into the night. 


	8. Chapter 8

AN: This is really as close to action as I'm gonna get until later on in the story. I have two excuses. One: JKR (also known as God) didn't to do huge scary action in Philosophers/Sorcerer's Stone until much later in the book (like Halloween) and my story is a lot more like that one than any of the other books. Two: I'm lazy and I never do anything active, so I don't see why I should have my characters do active things either! So if you want action… I'm sorry. I'm liking Myrmidian a lot. I mean it's about time Snape had some friends! Yeah, spoiler there! Oh yeah, and a note to the Pepper Imp: I've got you in there, so smile.

Slight update. I messed up in the Quidditch talk, so I've fixed that now. Stupid me. I'll just go hide in a corner now.

Another update. Eien caught a stupid mistake in counting. Since I can't count any higher than 3, it's nice to have readers who can. Thankee much.

Author's Rant: Not quite the same thing as the AN. Anyway my rant for now is about the tendency for people to only want to read D/H stories that start and end with sex and have nothing but sex in the middle. Ok, so I'm exaggerating, but please. Draco and Harry do deserve some emotions too. I do admit that I am guilty of falling into the angst trap (I'm really being mean to the emotions of Draco and I feel awful about that), but I'm trying to have Draco and Harry get some happy feelings too. I don't want them building a relationship purely on pity, revenge, lust, or shallow and temporary emotions. I am aiming for caring! So there! Yeah, rant over. ? 

Warning: I've already got warnings up, but this is one of the chapters where it gets slashy. So if you don't want to read it, don't. If you feel a need to comment on it, go ahead, but I'd really rather people stick to comments with some constructive stuff in them. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands.

_Parlance of the Serpent_

_Chapter 8_

"Oh shite! Oh shite!"

Harry ran along a hallway clutching his book bag in his arms. He was late to his first Defence Against the Dark Arts class of the year. He was sure Professor Myrmidian would hate him now. Harry whirled around a corner to see students streaming into the Defence classroom. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan grinned at Harry as he came up.

"Don't worry Harry," said Seamus. "Myrmidian's not even here yet."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Harry brought up the rear. Inside students from all four houses were filling up the seats. This particular class was a highly advanced one that very few students took. By the time Harry got into the classroom the only desk left was in the back, right behind Malfoy. Harry walked to the back and sat down, spreading his books out over the table. The students waited, chatting quietly, for Professor Myrmidian to show up.

The professor strode into the classroom, his dark blue robes billowing around him. His face was calm, but he had a twinkle in his eyes similar to Dumbledore's. He walked to his desk and put down a heavy volume he had been carrying. Leaning against the front of his desk, he folded his arms and examined his students.

"Good morning everyone. As you know I am Professor Humphrey Myrmidian." A piece of chalk began to write his name on the blackboard behind him. "I am very glad that all of you decided to take this course in advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts. Now, before I call roll, how many of you have had first hand experience with the Dark Arts?"

Harry raised his hand with Malfoy and a scattering of other students. Myrmidian looked around the classroom at the face of each student with his or her hand raised. When he got to Harry his eyes flicked up to the boy's scar briefly before he turned his gaze to Malfoy. He paused for a moment, looking at the pale face of the boy in front of Harry with one eyebrow raised, before going back to his teaching.

"Well that's most of you, so if we cover something you have already dealt with I hope you will be able to assist me in explaining it to your fellow classmates. Now please open your textbooks to the table of contents."

Harry pulled open his copy of Lifting the Shrouds of Darkness: A Guide to Combating the Dark Arts, by Philistia Brackenbush. As Myrmidian continued speaking, the chalk on the board jotted down notes.

"As you can see the author split the book into a section on curses and hexes, one on creatures, one on enchanted objects, and one on potions. We will be covering all four of these sections during the course of this year. I do not claim to have complete knowledge of all of these areas, so I have asked my colleagues to assist us. Professors Snape, McGonagall, and Hagrid will be giving demonstrations and extra lessons in the class. I have also asked some members of the wizarding community outside of Hogwarts to help in our studies, including your former teacher Mr. Lupin."

Harry perked up to hear this. Remus Lupin had been his favourite teacher at Hogwarts and was now one of his close friends. After Sirius was pardoned, Remus had visited them and worked with them steadily until Harry began to think of him as a part of the family. Already Harry had learned a huge deal about the Dark Arts from him, both in the classroom and out of it. He had been the favourite teacher of most of the students while he was at Hogwarts. In fact Harry could only think of on person who had actually disliked Remus, and that person was sitting right in front of him.

While other students had smiled or started whispering excitedly, Malfoy's shoulders gave a nearly imperceptible shrug when he heard Remus' name mentioned. Harry couldn't see his rival's expression, but he would have bet his whole fortune that it was a frown. And the only frown in the room. Malfoy would have to get used to being alone in this class, for he was the only Slytherin in the room.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're already looking forward to our lessons," Myrmidian smiled at the class and walked behind his desk. He flicked his wand at the blackboard and it cleared itself off leaving the chalk poised to take more notes. "We are going to start with the section on curses and hexes. Please open to chapter one. Now, Mr. Corner, would you read the first page to us?"

A mousy boy from Hufflepuff began to read laboriously through the text. Harry, a swift reader, ignored his faltering voice and read to himself.

Permotium Excidium 

_Permotium Excidium is a highly debated curse in the wizarding community. A witch named Kendra Wilmington invented it in the early eighteenth century. Permotium Excidium is a spell that allows the caster to control the emotions of another person. It has been made an official curse, but it is still highly debated. For years parents would use it to calm their children and get some sleep at night. Wizards would also use it on themselves to cheer up or to accurately create a mood if they were acting. However the Dark Lord and other dark wizards have more frequently used it to attack other wizards and muggles._

_It is a very dangerous thing to not have control over your emotions. In the Imperius Curse, the caster has control over the victim's actions, but not their feelings. Because of this the object of the curse can sometimes break free from it. Not so with the Permotium Excidium Curse. The victim has no ability to feel that they are being wronged. If the caster wants their victim to be angry they can often shake it off, but if the victim is forced to love the caster they are powerless. With this curse the caster cannot use magic to control what the person does, they can only try and convince him or her. The Imperius Curse does not work on someone under Permotium Excidium._

"Harry."

Harry looked up from his book and into the eyes of Draco Malfoy. He gulped, feeling the blood rush to his face. Those eyes… so silver… so pretty… He forced himself to look past them and realised why Seamus had whispered his name. Malfoy was not the only one looking at him. In fact everyone was looking at him. Harry tried to think what might have just happened, but he couldn't for the life of him figure it out.

"Mr. Potter," Professor Myrmidian said somewhat dryly. "I would appreciate it if you could stay with the rest of the class in this room. I do not enjoy repeating myself and I hope you will not give me cause to do so again. I was asking if you would explain to the class what it felt like when the Dark Lord had put you under the Imperius Curse and how you dealt with that. Go on, stand up."

Harry stood up, painfully aware that he had turned bright red. Trying to ignore all the eyes on him (especially the silver set) he cast his mind back to the times when he met Voldemort face to face. As Harry opened his mouth to speak, he was aware that he would have to concentrate on not crying.

"Um… Well it was sort of fuzzy. Not in a good way, but really confusing. He kept trying to make me do things, but I'd been practising for those moments. When Barty Crouch was teaching here he made me try to resist jumping on a desk. He did that till I was able to fully resist him. Then the first time I met Voldemort," Harry ignored the usual collective gasp, noticing only that it did not include Malfoy. "I mean the first time I met him back in power, he tried to make me bow down to him and ask him not to hurt me. I was able to refuse. After that I had my friends Ron and Hermione put me under the curse so that I could practise throwing it off.

"I will pretend you did not just say that Potter," Professor Myrmidian did not smile, but gestured for Harry to continue. "Continue."

"Oh, um… right. Sorry sir," Harry paused, hoping Hermione never found out that he mentioned her performing Unforgivable Curses. "When I… when I fought Voldemort with Albus… er… Professor Dumbledore and Sirius Black, my godfather" he added as another small shudder went around the room at the mention of Sirius. Harry was determined to let people know that he was not ashamed of his family. "Voldemort put me under Imperius with the help of some other death eaters and they tried to make me kill some of my friends who he'd taken hostage. I didn't do it, but I couldn't break to curse completely. I ended up cursing off the tip of Ron's finger.

"It sort of felt like going to sleep and listening to a lullaby. It was like Voldemort was singing me to sleep with a song about how right it would be to kill my friends. It's a really terrible feeling because once I broke out of it I felt like I had just done something wrong. It's hard to explain, but when I was under the curse I felt at peace. Just really happy."

Harry stopped speaking and stood still, a little confused as to how to continue. His cheeks felt hotter than a pepper imp and he was sure they were a colour to match. After a few moments Myrmidian motioned for Harry to sit down, which he did with great relief. The professor turned to the blackboard and examined the notes. With his back to the class, he began speaking.

"Thank you Potter. That was a very well put description. Five points to Gryffindor. I'm sure your class mates would also like to thank you for the excellent information you gave them for their _notes_. Why don't I see any of you writing?"

Papers rustled and students immediately began writing down everything on the board. Harry didn't bother, knowing he would never need notes to remind him of that feeling. He could still feel a few eyes on him, so he stared straight ahead, at the back of Malfoy's head. It was really amazing how pale the other boy's hair was. Harry watched Malfoy's little plait move back and forth with the movement of his shoulder blades as he wrote. It looked so smooth that Harry could not resist reaching out and gently touching the soft silvery hair.

"What do you want Potter?" Malfoy whirled around and faced Harry, his voice a harsh whisper.

"Nuh… nothing," Harry stammered. "Just a bit of… um… in your, uh…"

"Malfoy. Potter." Myrmidian, busy writing on some notes, had interrupted his work and was staring at the pair. "I realise the two of you must of loads to talk about since I know you are so close, but please leave your gossip until later."

Most of the class snickered at the sarcasm, and continued copying notes. Malfoy rolled his eyes and turned back around. Harry exhaled quietly, his pulse racing. He noticed steam on his glasses and took them off to clean them on the hem of his shirt. He would have to be more careful around Malfoy, and that surprised him. Usually he could be counted on to hide his emotions well, but recently he had been lapsing back into his early teenage years of raging hormones, especially around a certain blonde.

"Now that you have finished your notes," Myrmidian said, impatient to continue his lesson. "I will explain what it feels like to be under the Permotium Excidium Curse. I will say this only once so I expect you all to pay attention. I have never been under it personally, but this is what I have gathered from my studies and personal interviews. Potter described the Imperius Curse as a feeling of peace. Permotium Excidium doesn't have a particular feeling because it tampers with your feelings. A victim of this curse would only feel like they were in a particularly bad mood for a time, or a particularly happy mood. The only cloud over the person's judgement would be their emotions, which you teenagers should know is a very thick cloud. Most of the victims of this curse don't even notice that they are under it. For tomorrow's class I want a two-parchment outline of the section on this curse. You will take notes until it is time to leave."

Harry puled out paper with the other students and took notes until the end of class. When it was time to leave he gathered up his things and tried to hurry out, eager to ask Hermione if she knew about this curse. On his way out he saw Malfoy walking along the hall in front of him. Harry slowed down his pace, not wanting to run into his rival. As he walked, staring at Malfoy's back, a short red haired Slytherin bumped into him.

"Watch it," Harry said, not feeling like talking to any Slytherins at all.

"Oh," the other boy turned and bit his lip nervously, his green eyes filled with worry. When he spoke it was with a youthful voice and a heavy Scottish accent. "Sorry Potter. I didn't mean to, honest."

"It's alright," Harry replied, surprised at the redhead's polite tone. He wasn't used to Slytherins being that respectful, especially not of him. "Never mind."

The boy grinned and hurried along his way. As he neared Malfoy he tripped on his robe. His books went flying, one of them catching Malfoy on the back of the head. The blond turned around slowly, his face completely white. Harry winced, knowing the first year would soon be in for trouble. As he prepared to hurry forward and help collect the books, Harry was surprised again. Malfoy reached down and helped the boy up.

"We have to do something about your robes, Nat," Malfoy bent over and started picking up stray books. "I mean if your going to keep flinging school books at my head I'll buy you a whole wardrobe full of robes your size."

The boy, Nat, giggled as he helped Malfoy gather his books. "While you're at it, Draco, could you manage a book bag?"

"Aha!" Malfoy's usual smirk was in place, but with a happy twinkle in his eyes. "Now you're just getting greedy. Come on, back to the common room so we can hem up that oversized sack of yours."

Harry watched, flabbergasted, as the pair walked away together in the direction of the Slytherin common rooms. Malfoy was joking with, being nice, to a first year. Harry felt like everything he had ever known about Malfoy was being turned upside down.

"Interesting, isn't it?"

Harry jumped as Hermione spoke. He turned around and saw his two best friends had come up behind him and were staring at Malfoy and Nat as well. Hermione looked confused and a little pleased. Ron, on the other hand, looked disgusted.

"Revolting," Ron shuddered. "That poor little first year. They're so easily corruptible."

"I don't know," Hermione said, ever the optimist. "Maybe Malfoy has a nice side that we've never seen."

"A nice side?" Ron shrieked as Harry started laughing at the idea. "'Mione. You're really brilliant, but come on. We are still talking about Malfoy, son of You Know Who's top supporter and muggle hater extraordinaire."

Harry stopped laughing abruptly, remembering what Sirius had told him before school started. Ron and Hermione looked at him, confused at his sudden frown.

"Harry? Is something the matter?"

"Oh, it's just…" Harry searched in his mind, trying to cover for his reaction. "It's just… now that he's dead you should really be able to say Voldemort, Ron."

Ron winced. "Well everyone thought he was dead before and you know what happened."

"Believe me," Harry said sadly. "He is most certainly dead. I was the one… I was there, I should know."

Ron turned red and the three of them stood quietly for a moment, not looking at each other. Suddenly Neville Longbottom came up and distracted Ron with a question about magical creatures, unintentionally breaking the uncomfortable silence. The four of them walked back to the Gryffindor common room. Before they got to the Fat Lady Hermione pulled Harry aside.

"Look, Harry," she said with a concerned look in her eyes. "I just wanted to ask you if there's something wrong. Something other than Ron not using the name."

Harry swallowed, not sure of what to say. He had promised not to talk about Malfoy's father to anyone, but he knew that Hermione wouldn't tell anyone. On the other hand he felt strange telling something like this to her and not to Ron.

"If you don't want to tell me it's fine," Hermione added, sensing her friend's discomfort. "I just want to make sure you're alright."

"Thanks Hermione," Harry said gratefully. "It's just that it's not really for me to tell. It's not that I don't trust you, I just would feel strange telling you and not Ron. You know how bad he is at hiding his emotions."

"Right, then I won't press it," Hermione said, her mood lightening somewhat. "I'd better hurry to get my things. Spelling's in fifteen minutes."

"Oh, yeah. Ron and I've got Herbology in half an hour."

The two of them hurried along the hall to the Fat Lady, gave the password ("Occamy eggs"), and went into the common room. Seamus, Dean, Ron, and Neville were sitting by the fire discussing Quidditch as usual. Harry went over to sit with them as Hermione went upstairs.

"We've got a pretty strong offence," Dean was saying. "And Colin's an excellent chaser, but I'm a little worried about the defence. I mean, no offence Ron, but we've only got your sister, who's really not that bad, and Natalie Macdonald for beaters."

"No offence taken," Ron replied. "I love Ginny, but she's nowhere near as good as Fred and George."

"I don't know," said Harry. "I feel pretty safe with Ginny and Natalie out there. I'm just a little worried about Jason Lile."

"Look Harry, you shouldn't worry about Jason," Ron said seriously. "I know he's new to the team and everything, but he's a good chaser. Just wait till the practices really start. My dad works with his mum in the Ministry and he says Jason's been practising all summer."

"Yeah, don't worry, Harry," Seamus chimed in. "With a captain like you, how could you fail?"

Harry blushed and looked around the room, trying to change the topic. He saw the corner of a box sticking out from under a chair and pulled it out. It was a box of S.P.E.W. badges.

"I'll take that," Hermione said, rushing into the room, worried about her next class.

"Oh 'Mione," Seamus joked. "You're not still on about that useless SPEW stuff are you?"

"As a matter of fact I am," she replied as Ron elbowed Seamus in the gut. "And not everyone shares your views Seamus. There are members of the Ministry of Magic who find my campaign ideas very interesting and even students are beginning to care. Just today that Slytherin first year, Nathair Merosus bought a badge and told me he's very interested in joining. What do you say to that?"

"The little one who follows Malfoy around?" Ron grimaced. "I can't believe you even talk to him."

"Oh Ron, you shouldn't judge people before you meet them." Hermione rushed over to the portrait hole and as she went out she added, "He's actually quite sweet."

The group of boys laughed uproariously as Ron's face turned bright red at the idea that Hermione would call a Slytherin sweet. Harry laughed with the rest, but secretly he was thinking that if Malfoy was friends with this "sweet" Slytherin, maybe there was hope for him yet.


	9. Chapter 9

AN: Yay. More new characters for me to play with. No, Lorimer isn't cannon, but neither is Spelling. Or the whole premise of this story, so that's alright. I'm happy with the development of Nat. I can't wait to get to use him later. I am, however, worried that my Draco is getting a bit too far off the cannon Draco. I guess we'll see. Oh yes, and I just realized how fun writing Ron is. I'll have to use him more!

Warning: Ah yes, the slashy warning. Well not actually in this chapter, but yes there is slash in this story. Don't read it if you don't like it. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. And keep your paws off Nat. He's all mine!

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Parlance of the Serpent

Chapter 9

Draco lay across a large green armchair in a corner of the Slytherin dormitory, one arm flung across his eyes, taking a few minutes respite before heading off to his Spelling class. Since the beginning of the year, Draco had been snubbed and rejected by his fellow Slytherins. He had taken to sitting in a particular corner by himself and unspoken law had been declared that no one could go into his part of the room while he was there. The only exception to that rule was rapidly making his way across the common room towards Draco.

"Draco, did you get it?"

"It?" Draco opened his eyes and squinted at Nat, not bothering to sit up. "What would this 'it' be?"

Nat rolled his eyes at Draco's so-called memory. "You said I could have your old book bag."

"I did? Oh I suppose so. Crabbe," Draco called across the room, still languidly reclining on the chair.

Crabbe looked up from where he and Goyle had been staring at the fireplace. Both of them stood up and stumped over to Draco and Nat. Draco saw a look of disdain cross Nat's face and frowned. He felt exactly the same way about Crabbe and Goyle, but he also knew that if Nat showed it too openly, the brutish pair would crush him.

"You know the dresser in my room?"

Crabbe grunted and Goyle stared blankly at Draco.

"Right, well on top of it there's an old book bag. Bring it down to me."

The two massive boys slouched off to Draco's room. The Slytherin class had been so depleted that all the older students had their own rooms, a change that Draco welcomed readily. He had never enjoyed living in the same space as the other boys. Terence Nott wasn't that bad, but he had left the school to join the Death Eaters, and Blaise Zabini's only form of annoyance was his constant stutter. Crabbe and Goyle, on the other hand, had living habits that were as tidy as the pair was brilliant. Yes, Draco was pleased that he had his privacy. He was able to think, to work, and to live with the rigid order he craved.

"Why do you put up with them?"

Draco looked back at Nat, surprised. No one had ever asked him that before. Most people assumed that they were his bodyguards. No one even considered the three of them being friends.

"Their fathers were _companions_ of mine," Draco said the word with biting scorn. "By companion you understand I mean follower. When we came here, it was assumed that the three of us would have a similar relationship. It all worked out according to plan. Apparently that kind of dimness is hereditary."

Nat smothered a laugh as Crabbe and Goyle slouched back empty-handed. Draco heaved a sigh and sat up.

"Where is it Goyle?"

Goyle shrugged.

"Crabbe?"

"Whut?" Crabbe grunted, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh never mind," Draco stood up exasperatedly. "I have to go to Spelling in a minute anyway. I'll just bring it down when I leave."

Draco strode up the stairs to his room. It was built for five boys to live in close proximity, so to Draco it was like being back in his luxurious bedroom at home. The room was circular with a large fireplace. Draco's clothes were meticulously folded in dressers or hung in closets. Draco sat on his huge bed and packed his book bag with Spelling materials. As usual, he planned to arrive early so as to get a good seat and perhaps make friends with the teacher. Draco stood up and pulled his old book bag off a dresser and, pausing in front of a mirror to smooth back his ponytail, went back downstairs to the common room.

Nat was talking to a few other first years when Draco approached him. The first years froze with looks of discomfort and perhaps a little fear on their childish faces. Draco was used to this treatment, and by now Nat knew that it meant he had showed up. Nat turned around, a smile on his face. Draco shoved the bag at him.

"Thank you Draco."

"Yes," Draco did not respond well to thanks. "I will see you at dinner."

Draco walked out of the common room entrance and into a deserted hallway, his robes flowing behind him. Moodily, he stalked up the stairs from the dungeons. He wasn't sure why, but he was bothered by Nat's ability to mingle and talk to people with ease. Draco always took over the attention of a crowd, whether that was a bad or good thing, but he never connected.

As he walked up the stairs, he met Snape and Myrmidian talking on a landing. Snape's back was to him, but the professor raised his voice in greeting, making his favourite student jump.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy."

"Hello Professor Snape. Professor Myrmidian," Draco said as he drew level with the professors.

"And what class are we rushing off to now?"

"Spelling," Draco replied.

The two men looked down their large, aquiline noses at him. Draco noticed for the first time that his two teachers were actually very similar. Snape's magic eye and black robes gave a dark and sombre effect, while Myrmidian's blue eyes and robes cast a cold, if not quite as foreboding, air.

"Ah," said Myrmidian. "A complex art. Severus tells me that you are a conscientious and hard working student. With advanced classes in Potions, Spelling, and my own subject, I hope he is correct."

"Thank you sir," Draco said quietly, but distinctly. "If you will excuse me, I have to hurry in to class."

"By all means," Snape's eyes crinkled. "We mustn't keep the pupil from his studies."

Draco nodded and continued hurriedly up the stairs. He never blushed, but he felt very close to it at that moment. He was not used to receiving praise from men. His mother had praised, coddled, and spoiled him since he could remember, but his father had been a different story. Lucius Malfoy had shown love only for his master, allowing the rest of his family to tend to their own emotional needs. Draco bit the inside of his cheek to distract himself from dwelling on painful memories. His father was in Azkaban and nothing would change that.

Draco neared his Spelling classroom and found the door ajar. Curious, he glanced in. A woman stood at the teacher's desk poring over some papers. Her back was to the door and her face hidden by a mass of brown curls. Draco stayed in the hallway for a moment and pulled out his course schedule. It showed a Spelling class taught by Professor K. Lorimer. Draco put the list back in his bag, squared his shoulders, and entered the classroom. The woman seemed not to notice, so he cleared his throat. She spun around and Draco momentarily allowed surprise to show on his face. It was Hermione Granger. The two of them stood there silently for a moment, before Granger spoke up uncomfortably.

"I was just I was looking over Professor Lorimer's class notes."

Draco rose an eyebrow sceptically, enjoying her discomfort.

"I mean, he's not here and I didn't think it would do any harm."

Draco remained impassive.

"Oh fine," Granger threw up her arms in a wild gesture and walked over to a desk in the front row with all her materials on it. "Why should I even bother explaining to you?"

"I hope nothing of value was on the professor's desk," Draco said coldly. "It would be too bad to start the class with thievery."

Granger sat down roughly and pulled open a book. She opened it to a marker and clenched her teeth. After a moment's tense silence she spoke.

"Look Malfoy," her words came out harshly through clenched teeth. "I am going to do my best not to let you hurt me this year. I understand that since your precious Dark Lord has fallen you must be very upset and eager to take out your frustration on whoever shows up, but let me tell you something. You are not going to get a rise out of me, so you can say whatever you want, insult whatever part of me you choose. You are just an evil bigot who feels so badly about himself that he has to take it out on others. But I realise now that nothing you say matters. You are unimportant."

The girl looked up at him, her eyes full of fiery determination. Draco tossed his head in what he hoped would be an arrogant fashion. In reality, he was avoiding meeting those eyes. He had never thought of Granger as an aggressive person, but her resolute undermining of his very existence had hurt him in a way he didn't know was possible. Without a word, he swept past her desk and took a seat in the back row. Breathing shallowly, he watched the back of Granger's head. Had he said things like that to her? Had he ever created that dull pit in the bottom of her stomach that he now felt in the bottom of his? No wonder she had slapped him one year.

Draco also pulled out his Spelling book. He had already read through the whole thing and memorised a few of the chapters, but it would never hurt to continue. As the two of them read, other students began to enter the small classroom. Only four other people showed up. Draco assumed this was the smallest class in the school, but only because it was one of the hardest. Creating new spells was a very dangerous and highly exact magic that not many people could fathom.

Finally, Professor Lorimer swept into the room. He was a short jovial man with a friendly smile on his round face. Bushy red whiskers gave him the impression of an orange coloured Kris Kringle. He placed his armful of dusty tomes on his desk and swept off his dark green hat. Folding his hands across his ample stomach, he stood and surveyed the silent class.

"Well," he said in a voice as bubbly as his appearance suggested. "You're a cheerful lot."

The class stirred in surprise to be addressed this way by a professor.

"Not a smile among you," Lorimer continued. "Are you all sure you wanted to take Spelling? Yes? Well, that's good at any rate. As I'm sure you have surmised, I am Professor Karsen Lorimer. Now since there are only nine of us I'd like you all to sit up front. Go on. There's plenty of room."

Students got up and moved to the front of the class. By the time Draco had gathered his books and walked to the front of the room, the only seat left was at the end of the row and next to Granger. The two of them shared a withering glare for a fraction of a second before Draco sat down. Lorimer beamed down on the small class.

"That's much better. I like to have everyone up close so that I can get to know you better. Actually it's just because my height prevents me from gazing down on anyone except Filius Flitwick, and this gives me a nice opportunity."

A few of the students chuckled and even Draco grinned. Something about this little man's attitude inspired jollity in everyone.

"Let me see. Locke and Jennings. Abbot and Nettles. Granger and Malfoy. Just so. Now I hope you like the person you're sitting next to because you will be partners for the rest of the year." 

Draco turned to Granger, horrified. She was not looking at him, but at Lorimer. Her cheeks were white and her mouth open, in mute horror. Draco scowled, ready to dislike this class already. Having to spend the whole year in a partnership, any kind of partnership, with this know-it-all sounded like the most perfect form of torture. In the back of his head he knew that one of the reasons for his dislike of Granger is that she had just seen him in a moment of weakness. He, Draco Malfoy, had been unable to hurt her and she had cut him down. He would never be able to live with that.

"Well now," Lorimer continued. "As a start of term activity I am going to have you tell me why you chose to take this class. For this activity, you will all be put under a harmless little spell called Veritilium. It is very similar to the Veritaserum elixir, but not as potent. I will demonstrate by casting it on myself and telling you why I teach this class."

With that, Lorimer took out his wand and placed the tip of it on his throat. He whispered a word and a pearly white mist appeared around his throat.

"As you can see, this white mist is here when I tell the truth. If I were to lie, the mist would appear green. Let me show you. My name is Albus Dumbledore."

As Lorimer spoke the mist around his neck turned a bright shade of green. Lorimer continued, scratching his neck as he spoke.

"Now the mist has turned green, so I was telling a lie. An unpleasant side effect of telling a lie is that the mist creates a very annoying itch around my neck. No matter how much truth I tell it will not go away until I correct my previous falsehood. My name is Karsen Lorimer. Ah, much better."

Professor Lorimer sat down on the edge of his desk, his short legs dangling. The white fog had returned and the professor sat very comfortably.

"I have always been interested," he began, "in how these spells I was learning in school came into being. When I was little I believed that they were born, like a griffin or a dragon. In my younger years I worked at the Ministry of Magic as an assistant secretary of the head of the Floo Regulation panel. It wasn't glamorous, but while I was there I found out about the Committee for Experimental Charms. This interested me, so I hung around the offices in my free time, learning what I could from conversations. Eventually I became a junior member of the committee and worked in it for many years. Eight years ago I was approached by Albus Dumbledore and asked to work here as a teacher. He felt, and I agreed, that this subject, though highly specialised, was underrepresented in the education system for young wizards. I have been teaching small classes here ever since. That's me taken care of. Now it's your turn."

Lorimer took the spell off himself and turned to the class, waiting for a volunteer. Draco thought about what he would say. He wanted to take this class ever since his mother had told him about it, but that wasn't the only reason. The other reason he wasn't sure he wanted to share. To his right, Granger timidly raised her hand. Lorimer beamed at her and hopped off his desk. He walked up to her and wrung her hand.

"Very good Miss Granger, very good. Now I want to tell you before you begin that everything we say will remain in this room. Our lives are private things and so much of us goes into the creation of these spells that it would be unfair to ask any of you to share without complete comfort. Now, Miss Granger, if I may"

Lorimer placed the tip of his wand on Granger's throat. For a moment her face was completely white, worried about allowing someone to place this kind of spell on her. Lorimer whispered the word, the mist appeared, and Granger's face cleared.

"I read about this subject a few years ago in my copy of Hogwarts a History," Granger began, sounding very pleased with herself. "I thought it sounded fascinating and I've actually had an opportunity to work with Spelling in the past. I worked in the Spelling branch of the Ministry of Magic war effort for a year and I found all my work very interesting. The history of Spelling is fascinating, too. While I was part of the war effort I read a few books on the subject and I realised how helpful Spellers are. I read about this spell actually. The circumstances of its creation are amazing"

"Thank you Miss Granger," Lorimer said, and took the spell off.

Draco was glad that Lorimer had cut Granger off when he had, because she would surely have continued for the rest of the class. The other students began volunteering as well, and soon Draco was the only one left. He gulped as the cool wood of Lorimer's wand touched his throat. In a moment, the mist surrounded his neck, with the calming feeling of a soft silk scarf.

"My mother told me about this a few years ago," Draco began. "That was the first time I became interested in the class. But then, what with the war, I got a different perspective. Because of my During the war, I was able to see some of Voldemort's destruction first hand. I thought that if there was at least one person creating protective and healing spells for every Death Eater creating harmful spells, that sort of destruction could be avoided. Spelling, creating helpful spells, might allow me to allow me to sort of make up for some of the damage that my that the Death Eaters caused."

Draco stared at his desk the whole time he spoke. When he was finished he looked up. No one in the room met his eyes. He squared his jaw and sat, resolutely watching them. Lorimer took the spell off and coughed, slightly uncomfortable. He walked around to behind his desk and cleared his throat again.

"Thank you everyone. I am glad you could all be so open with each other. For the rest of the class you will work with your partners to answer these questions. Why is Spelling important? What sort of spells would you like to create? Go to work."

Draco turned to Granger and was not surprised to see her still blushing down at her desk. He smiled grimly to himself, pleased at her discomfiture. No doubt she was now feeling guilty about what she had said to him earlier.

"Alright Granger," he said. "I won't pretend to be pleased with this arrangement, but I want to learn so let's deal with it."

"Yes," Granger looked up at him with a decided expression on her face. Draco was suddenly reminded of McGonagall. "Before we start working, I'd like to make an agreement with you. I don't really care about outside of class, but when we are working together I feel that I would like to arrange a sort of truce, if only because I don't want to jeopardise my studies. Are we agreed?"

"Yes," Draco said wryly. "Should we shake on it now or sign a document in blood."

Granger smiled and pulled out a sheet of parchment.

"I was joking Granger."

"I know that," she said, pulling out a quill and ink. "Honestly Malfoy, I have a bit more sense than you give me credit for. We have to write down the types of spells we want to write."

"A spell for um, walking on air."

"Nice, but I think it's been done."

"What's that saying about great minds?"

"Ha ha. How about one for playing people's memories for everyone to see?"

"Good. One for being able to see from a different perspective."

"Literally or do you mean another mental perspective?"

"Both."

"One for automatic visual memorisation."

"Says Granger the top student at school."

"Well it would be useful"

"Right, right. What next?"

By the time Professor Lorimer called for the class to turn in their lists, Draco and Granger had a substantial one with over ten spell ideas. Lorimer, jovial as ever, seemed particularly pleased with their efforts.

"Very well done," he exulted as class ended. "I believe we can expect great work from this pairing."

Granger smiled and blushed at the praise, while Draco simply nodded and gathered up his books to leave. As he left the classroom Lorimer stopped him.

"Mr. Malfoy," he said seriously. "I wanted to thank you for being so frank with us today. I understand the importance of your willingness to bring up such a subject."

"It was nothing, Sir," Draco responded coolly. "I was just being honest."

"Yes well, thank you all the same."

Draco left the room, wondering about his new professor. In the hall, he was surprised to see Granger conversing happily with none other than Nat. Unnoticed, Draco watched the two of them. Nat said something and Granger laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. Then Nat pulled his robe open slightly to reveal a large pin next to the Slytherin coat of arms on his jumper. Draco winced to recognise the letters S.P.E.W. He hurried over, anxious to find out what could have caused Nat to buy a membership to Granger's useless organisation.

"Nat," he said sternly as he approached. "What is that on your jumper?"

"Oh this," Nat said, his teeth showing through his irrepressible grin. "I've joined the Society for the Protection of Elfish Welfare. Hermione was telling me about it and I think it's a very important idea."

"Nat really has taken to the cause," Granger beamed down at the little redhead. "It's so nice to have a member from another house. I think it gives the group much more validity."

"Ah yes," Draco managed to muster a small smile. "Well, I am glad to see Nat finding something to do with his time."

Granger looked as if she was about to reply, but stopped herself abruptly, gazing over Draco's shoulder. Draco turned to see what had caught her eye and grimaced. Weasley, a scowl on his face, was striding towards them. Draco sighed, not desiring a confrontation. Weasley walked to Granger and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Are you bothering Hermione, Malfoy?"

Draco raised his eyebrow slightly as Weasley spat his name. "I don't believe so Weasley. We were just discussing her society what was it?"

"Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare," she said quietly, not meeting Weasley's eyes.

"Exactly. She was giving me a few of the particulars."

"Yes," Granger continued, clearly trying to calm down her beau. "Remember I was telling you that Nathair oh I'm sorry, Nat, bought a membership?"

"Really," Weasley said through clenched teeth.

"Oh yes," said Nat, cheerfully ignoring Weasley's demeanour. "I think it's a really great cause. The treatment of elves and pixies and that sort isn't very good and Hermione was saying that once we have more members she's going to petition the Ministry of Magic to start a branch for the protection of underprivileged magical communities."

Draco suppressed a smirk as Weasley withdrew his arm from Granger's shoulders.

"Well," said the fiery redhead stiffly. "Since you three are getting along so well, I'll just be heading back. I suppose I'll see you in the common room Hermione, if you have the time."

With that, he turned and stalked off. Granger closed her eyes and took a deep breath, clearly counting inside her head. Draco watched silently, but Nat, unused to Weasley's temper, looked extremely worried.

"Oh dear," his voice quavered slightly. "Hermione, did I upset him?"

"No," she said patiently, avoiding Draco's eyes. "It's not you. Ron's just like that sometimes. Don't worry, I'll go after him and calm him down. I'll see you later Nat, Draco."

She turned and walked quickly after Weasley. Nat and Draco watched the pair of Gryffindors for a moment, before turning towards their own common room. They walked silently, but Draco could tell that Nat wanted to say something by the way he fidgeted with his bag. Finally he burst out.

"You and Ron really hate each other, don't you?"

"Yes," Draco replied smoothly. "Yes, I'm afraid we do."

"Why?"

"Because he's an insufferable," Draco paused, reconsidering his response. "Because we have no respect for each other. Our fathers both worked in the Ministry and they never got along. I was taught to show disdain for Weasleys, he was taught to despise Malfoys. And his temper is too fun to play with for me to resist goading him. Quintaped." He added, giving the Slytherin password. 

"Could you ever reconcile yourselves?"

"Perhaps," Draco said as they went into their common room. "But don't hold your breath." 


	10. Chapter 10

AN: Chapter 10, after the loss of all things on the computer, was a pain to write. It does, however, have up sides for me, which in my opinion are twofold. One, it is very short! Two, it has Remus/Sirius in it. Yippee!!! As I said before, the canon Draco and Harry never actually made me think of them as a couple (except that JKR constantly has Harry in and out of closets, hmm…). I think they'd be a splendid couple, so in my story they are. (As well as another couple, but that doesn't really show up 'till later. And don't blame me, I didn't come up with it, the characters were just wandering around the fringes of my story and I suddenly realized that they were going out behind my back! Not my fault.) Oh and Narcissa's popping up again. Yay!

Thanks to everyone who's been giving me so much encouragement. I will be continuing the story after all.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. And keep your paws off Nat. He's all mine!

Parlance of the Serpent 

_Chapter 10___

Harry wiped the dirt on his hands off on his robes and stood up. He took off his glasses and tried to clean them on the hem of his shirt, succeeding only in spreading the soil around more. Harry replaced his glasses and walked over to where Professor Nimity was taking notes with a bent quill.

"Um, excuse me Professor Nimity."

"Ah, Harry," the professor looked up and smiled toothily at him. "You've finished picking up the Blue Blindertree seeds? Are you sure? They tend to spring up when you expect them to be gone."

Harry grimaced.

"Ah yes, I see you have already figured that out. Well you may go now, just be careful in the future."

"Thanks Professor."

Harry picked up his books and left the greenhouse. Professor Nimity had been extremely understanding, only taking three points and making him clean up after class. Ron had offered to stay and help, but Harry had insisted that he do his own work. Now, as he walked across the courtyard to the large front doors, his tired back made him regret that decision.

"Alrigh' Harry?"

Harry turned away from the door and grinned. Rubeus Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures professor, was trudging across the courtyard towards him toting a sack of books.

"Hi Hagrid," Harry said. "I'm all right. Just a bit tired from cleaning up in greenhouse six."

"Just had Elsa Nimity did yeh?" Hagrid grinned broadly beneath his whiskers. "What'd yeh make of her, then?"

"I liked her I guess," Harry shrugged. "I had to clean up the greenhouse for spilling some seeds. Not that I didn't deserve it. Harry added. 

"Good, good," Hagrid bellowed as he held the doors open for Harry to go through. "An' how'd yeh like my class then?" 

"It was great, Hagrid," Harry said enthusiastically. "I loved the augury Ron brought in."

"Yeh," Hagrid agreed jovially. "I was worried mighta made the class sad, but he said it'd work out. Ron's been a great help settin' up the class. If he don' go on t'other things, I reckon he'd make a right good professor."

"Somehow I don't see it," Harry said, grinning at the idea of his friend teaching. "Speaking of other teachers, how's Madam Maxime doing?"

"Oh, eh," Hagrid hitched up his sack, pleased and slightly embarrassed at the mention of his fiancée. "Olympe's doin' fine. Actually comin' t'see me at Christmas. An' I'm visitin' her soon on weekends an' such."

"That's excellent Hagrid," Harry said. "Look, I've got to get up to the common room."

"Right. Come round fer tea sometime next week. Bring yer friends."

"Of course," Harry waved as he walked up the staircase to the common room. "See you."

Harry walked quickly to his common room, hoping to catch Hermione with a free moment to help him with his new Herbology work. As he approached the portrait of the Fat Lady, Harry saw it swing open. Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley rushed out, and almost into Harry.

"Hey," Harry said, stopping the pair. "Where's the fire?"

"In my brother's hair," Ginny said, pushing past him. "Run for cover."

"She's right, Harry," Dean said. "Ron and 'Mione are having a bit of spat… which means flying objects are sure to follow."

"Oh no!"

Harry hurried through the still open portrait hole. Inside the common room, he stopped and stared at the scene in front of him. Ron stood by the huge fireplace, his face redder than his hair, yelling at Hermione, who stood on the other side of the room glaring back at him. Harry saw his friends' book bags lying on the floor near them, clearly dropped in haste and anger. Other students were clearing out of what was apparently the battleground. Harry stopped Neville in his pursuit for the portrait hole. 

"Hey, Neville," Harry asked, grabbing Neville by the arm. "What's this all about?"

"Well it's," Neville began, only to be interrupted by Ron's bellow.

"HOW DARE YOU TALK TO THAT… THAT… THAT… THAT SLIMY FERRET!"

"Ah, never mind," Harry said, letting Neville go. "It's Malfoy."

"HOW DARE YOU DECREE WHO I CAN AND CANNOT TALK TO!" Hermione countered.

"BUT HE'S MALFOY!"

"SO WHAT?"

"Hermione," Harry said calmly as he walked into the fray.

"SO WHAT? HE'S A DEATH EATER'S SON!" 

"Ron!" Harry turned to his other friend.

"THAT DOESN'T MAKE HIM A DEATH EATER!"

"YES, IT DOES!"

"NO, IT DOESN'T!"

"WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP?"

Ron and Hermione stopped shouting, surprised by Harry's intrusion. Harry stood between the two of them, his wand raised.

"You may not care about your own eardrums," Harry said. "But try thinking about the rest of us."

"Harry's right Ron," Hermione said, taking a deep breath. "We should try to talk about this, screaming won't get us anywhere."

"There's nothing to talk about," Ron said quietly, his voice full of rage. He pulled out his wand and pointed it at his book bag. "Accio book bag. As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to talk about. Ever." 

Ron slung his bag over his shoulder and stalked up to the boy's dormitory. Harry and Hermione stood for a moment looking after him, then Hermione broke down in tears. Harry rushed over to her and hugged her. He guided her gently to a couch and sat down next to her.

"Sh, Hermione," He said soothingly. "He didn't mean that. You know Ron when he's angry. He just says the first thing that pops into his head."

"I know," she replied through her tears. "It's just so upsetting."

"Will you tell me what happened?"

"He's upset that I was talking to Nathair and Draco." 

"Why were you talking to Malfoy?" Harry said, shocked. "And why are you calling him Draco?"

"Oh, you," Hermione said angrily, jumping up from the couch. "You and Ron are so closed-minded. You can't conceive of people changing, can you? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe Draco's not that bad? That maybe he isn't as immature as he used to be?" 

"Yes," Harry replied calmly. "I have."

"Oh," Hermione sat down again, hesitantly. "You have?"

"Look, 'Mione," Harry looked around to make sure nobody else was there. Harry looked around to make sure nobody else was there. "I want to tell you something, only it's really important that no one else finds out, not even Ron."

"It's not as though I can talk to Ron about anything now anyway," she said pulling out a handkerchief to blow her nose.

"Stop it. You know he'll start talking to you again, he's just upset and confused. Now can I tell you this?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes serious.

"Dumbledore asked Sirius to tell me this, but only me. I'm sure I can trust you, though, and I think you could help Ron a bit by knowing it. You know how Lucius Malfoy was taken to Azkaban? Well, his wife and son were the ones who turned him in."

Harry proceeded to recount to Hermione what Sirius had told him the day he left for Diagon Alley. She listened quietly, only sometimes displaying surprise. When he was done they sat silently. Hermione suddenly broke the silence.

"Poor Draco."

"Excuse me?"

"Poor Draco," she repeated. "He must feel so conflicted now." 

"What do you mean?"

"Well he did something wonderful for our cause, but he's still in a very dangerous position. He can't openly state that he helped us because his family had so many connections to the Death Eaters. His two best friends, Crabbe and Goyle, are both Death Eaters' sons. He's safe here, but his mother isn't. And Draco's also too proud to admit that he changed his mind helped us. Not when he's derided our cause for so many years."

"I suppose so," Harry replied. "I'd never really thought of Malfoy that way."

"He's not actually that bad if he's not insulting you," Hermione continued. "We've been assigned as partners in Spelling, so I worked with him in class today. And he's friendly with Nat, the other member of S.P.E.W. That's really why I was talking to them after class, why Ron was so upset." 

"Hermione."

Harry and Hermione turned around to see an embarrassed Ron standing at the bottom of the stairs. They stood up and Harry started to head for the dormitories.

"I'll just give you two a moment," he said. "Shall I?"

"Yeah," Ron said gratefully. "Thanks mate."

Harry started up the stairs, shooting Hermione a wide-eyed look as he did so. As he entered the dormitory, he found Seamus Finnigan reading.

"Well," he asked when he saw Harry come in. "Did they sort themselves out?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, laying his books by his bed. "How did you manage to calm Ron down?"

"I just told him jokes and ignored his bad mood. He laughed, but eventually he felt uncomfortable and said he 'had to go get a book.' I just didn't bring it up."

"Good job."

As Harry opened his bureau to get cleaner robes, Hedwig swooped through the open tower window with a letter in her beak. She landed on her perch next to Harry's four-poster, and dropped the letter into his hand.

"Thanks Hedwig," Harry muttered affectionately.

He turned the letter over to see that it was from Sirius. He opened it quickly, took out the single piece of parchment, and began to read. 

_Dear Harry,_

_How are you? Are your classes interesting? Are your teachers treating you well? Obviously, that last question excludes a certain slimy haired, long nosed, so-called 'professor.' As I write this, Remus is looking over my shoulder and chastising me for encouraging you to disrespect your professors. He's right as usual, I suppose._

_As I clearly stated, Remus is finally back from visiting his parents. Peter's much too good at hiding himself and I continue to regret the day that he joined us in our Animagus studies. Not many of Voldemort's supporters are out and free, so he doesn't have too many people to hide him, which is one comforting thought at least._

_When is your next Quidditch match? I ask because Dumbledore has invited Remus and me for tea at Hogwarts and I was hoping the two events could coincide. I have only seen you play once, but I remember that you were fantastic!_

_I've got to go now. Write soon and often. Eat well, stay warm, don't hurt yourself, and don't tell me I sound like an old lady._

_With much love,_

_Sirius_

_P.S. Remus sends his love too._

_P.P.S. I thought you would be interested to know that I'm in contact with Narcissa Malfoy now. You see we were quite good friends at Hogwarts before she started mixing with Lucius. Apparently, she will also be in Hogsmeade on your first weekend there. (It's in four weeks, yes?) You may have to see her son a bit more than usual on that weekend. Her husband's arrest was extremely hard on her._

_Love again,_

_Sirius_

Harry folded up the letter and returned it to its envelope. He didn't like the idea of his family getting close to the Malfoys, but he also didn't want to stop Sirius from seeing his old friends, especially if Mrs. Malfoy needed help. And he remembered the conversation he had just had with Hermione about Draco Malfoy. If she could manage talking to him and working in class with him, perhaps spending time with him and his mum a little over one weekend wouldn't be a complete disaster. 

"Bad news?" Seamus asked.

"No," Harry replied, getting out a quill and parchment. "Quite the opposite in fact. Dumbledore's invited Remus Lupin and my godfather to tea and Quidditch next week."

"It'll be nice to see Professor Lupin again," Seamus said enthusiastically. After a pause he added, "And…Mr. Black, of course."

"Yes it will be," Harry said, ignoring the other boy's discomfort at the mention of Sirius. The last time his godfather had visited had been a bit uncomfortable because most of the students, and some of the staff, still thought that Sirius would try to murder them in their beds. "They're also coming for our first Hogsmeade vacation."

"Oh. Brilliant," Seamus said, sounding like it was anything but.

"Who's coming?" Ron had appeared at the door, a huge grin on his face. "Not Remus and Sirius?"

"Yeah," Harry replied, glad that Ron had broken the tension in the room.

"Super!"

"You and Hermione sorted it all out then?"

"Yes." Hermione walked through the door and sat down on the edge of Ron's bed.

"Oy, Hermione," Seamus complained. "You're not supposed to be in here!"

"Oh honestly, Seamus," she replied. "Nobody's changing, are they?"

"As a matter of fact I was just about to," Harry remarked with a smile.

"Rubbish, Harry. You were about to write a letter to Sirius." She pointed matter-of-factly at the parchment and paper Harry had just pulled out.

"Brilliant, Holmes," Harry laughed.

"What?" Ron sat down next to Hermione, his face a picture of confusion.

"It's a muggle reference," Hermione said.

Harry stopped listening as Hermione and Seamus explained Sherlock Holmes to Ron. He sat on his bed, absently stroking Hedwig's feathers, as he thought about his family at home. It would be wonderful to see Sirius and Remus again. The two men were closer to parents than he'd ever had, and at the same time, closer to siblings than he'd ever had. It had only been a few weeks, but Harry was already homesick.

Again, Harry's mind was brought back to the issue of the Malfoys. He'd only met Narcissa Malfoy once and he'd had the impression of a very unhappy woman. If turning in her husband had heightened her sadness, Harry was all in favour of Sirius's friendship with her. The only problematic point was Harry's relationship with her son. Harry was willing to admit that Draco Malfoy might be less horrible than before, but that didn't mean he wanted to spend all of his weekend at Hogsmeade with him either

For about the hundredth time Harry wished that Draco had a pleasant personality to match his charm and good looks. Perhaps then his attraction to the other boy would be a bit more bearable. On the other hand, Harry was not eager to fully acknowledge the attraction he was feeling. His silent reverie was suddenly broken.

"Harry, help me," Hermione said. "What other books did Sir Arthur Conan Doyle write?" 

"I don't know Hermione," Harry said, turning back to the events at hand. "The Dursleys were not exactly what you might call avid readers and Remus and Sirius know absolutely nothing about muggle culture."

"Really?" Hermione said, shocked. "But Remus always seems so cultured."

"Well you can complain to him next week when they come to the Quidditch match."

"Yeah 'Mione," Ron added grinning. "Unless you mind Sirius biting off your leg when you criticise his Moony."

"I say, that's not fair," Harry countered, laughingly. "He only bit your leg once and it had nothing whatsoever to do with him and Remus."

"Honestly you two," Hermione said, noticing Seamus' growing discomfort at the idea of Sirius Black biting off someone's leg. "Stop being so childish. Harry when you write your letter be sure to send my love to them. And now I have homework to do. And so do you, Ron."

Ron rolled his eyes and followed Hermione down to the common room. Seamus went back to his book and Harry began to write his letter.

_Dear Sirius,_

_I'm doing well here. Classes are going tolerably well. We've got new Defence and Herbology teachers, as you already know. Nimity (Herbology) is nice enough, and Myrmidian's only flaw that I can see is that he's partial to Slytherins, including you friend the slimy one. (Don't tell Remus I said that, because I can't make up with him the way you do!)_

_I'd love you and Remus to come down here. Ron and Hermione are excited about seeing you two as well. Our first Quidditch match is next week on Wednesday. Gryffindor versus Slytherin._

_And speaking of which, I think it's great that you and Mrs. Malfoy are friends. Honestly, I don't mind a bit. If you really like her I promise I'll try to be nicer to her son when you and she are around._

_Hermione and Ron send their love, and so do I,_

_Harry_

_P.S. Myrmidian says that Remus is coming to help teach his classes at some point. Is this true? When is he coming? Tell him everyone here's really excited about that. _

Harry perused the letter, searching for any faults before sealing it off. He tied it securely to Hedwig's leg, gently stroking her snowy breast feathers as he did so. Hedwig cooed happily and took off out the open dormitory window. Harry walked over to the window and leaned out, watching her fly away until the flapping of her white wings blended with the white of the clouds in the blue sky. Harry looked down and saw figures moving on the Quidditch pitch. Figures in green and silver robes. He watched them for a few moments, flying across the pitch, before pulling his head back inside the dormitory. He knew it would do no good to dwell on the upcoming match. He walked over to his bed and started changing into his clean robes. Neville suddenly opened the door and came in, staggering under the weight of books.

"Ah, Harry," he panted. "Hermione sent me up here with a message for you. She says you're to come down at once and work on your Potions essay."

"Thanks Neville," Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed his books.

"I had some questions about it," Neville said shyly. "Could I come along?"

"Yeah, com on" Harry said warmly, and lead the way down to the dormitory.


	11. Chapter 11

AN: This chapter was very annoying to write because I'd just finished reading Order of the Phoenix and I had weird, mixed up ideas about the characters. I also have personal issues with bashing Draco the way I did here. But hey, there is ACTION!! Yay! I broke my action writer's block. But then it's really hard to write about a Quidditch match without some action. And, miracle of miracles, the plot is actually starting. "What?" you say. "There's a plot to this thing?" Yes. There is a plot, and no it is not about Draco and Harry's relationship with each other, though that's a big part of it. Anyway, enjoy. 

Warning: THERE ARE SOME MINOR SPOILERS FOR ORDER OF THE PHOENIX! They shouldn't actually give away any plot, but it's introduced in that book, but I thought I'd give a warning anyway. There's some minor swearing, but it's not any of the four-letter ones, so it's not rated anything scarier than PG-13. This is, as usual a slash story, so remember that. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. And keep your paws off Nat. He's all mine!

Parlance of the Serpent 

_Chapter 11_

"Draco," Nat said soothingly. "Not eating won't help you get ready for Quidditch."

Draco sat in his usual seat at the end of the Slytherin table, across from Nat and flanked by Crabbe and Goyle. It was true that he hadn't eaten anything that morning. It was the day of his first Quidditch match against Gryffindor and breakfast didn't seem like his top priority. After weeks of gruelling practice with teammates and a captain who hated him, he was completely wiped out. He prodded his porridge listlessly and stared off into space.

"Hello?" Nat called to him, flapping his arms in front of Draco's face. "Are you with us Draco?"

"Stop it Nat," Draco said, in no mood to joke. "I'm thinking."

"Apparently not," the little redhead replied, piling sausages onto his golden plate. "A thinking person would realize that unless you eat you'll be too weak to hold onto your broom. Gryffindor will fly all over you if you fall off."

"Don' worry," Crabbe grunted. "We'll pound Potter when he wins."

Nat rolled his eyes as Goyle grinned and rubbed his fist. Draco just hid his face in his hands.

"Great Crabbe," Nat said sarcastically. "That's right, lets just tell Draco what a failure he'll be. But that's all right because we've got you and Goyle to take care of everything when Potter wins. Because there's no chance of Draco winning, now is there?"

"Nat," Draco muttered. "Shut up, will you?"

Sarcasm was lost on Crabbe and Goyle. Draco looked past Nat and caught sight of Potter, Weasley, and Hermione. The three of them were eating and talking animatedly about something. Hermione looked up and caught Draco's eye. She smiled and, with a guilty glance towards her oblivious friends, mouthed "good luck." Without thinking, Draco smiled crookedly, but quickly stopped himself when he saw Potter looking up. Draco's brief smile was replaced by his usual haughty frown. He grabbed a plate of pancakes and heaped them onto his plate, unwilling to show Potter how nervous he was.

Besides Quidditch practices, Draco had had other things to bother him during the last week. His mother had sent him her usual long weekly letter with accounts of the day, conversational ramblings, and questions for her son. There had, however been a postscript that had troubled Draco greatly.

_P.S. I forgot to tell you, Draco darling, that I've been spending time with some friends from my Hogwarts days. I'm sure you didn't know that one of my old school friends, and one of my cousins actually, is Sirius Black. Now I know most people think that he's very dangerous and out to kill everyone, but he really is a very sweet man. He and I have resumed our old friendship. Sirius and his special friend Remus Lupin (who was, I believe, your Defence Against the Dark Arts professor for one year) will be at Hogsmeade on the first weekend, as will I. I hope that you won't mind, my dear, if I spend a bit of time with them there. I won't ask you to accompany us because I know you and his godson Harry Potter are on bad terms, but he is one of my close friends. Please don't be too upset with me darling. I miss you very much._

Bad terms, Draco thought as he carefully avoided Potter's eye, was a bit of an understatement. Draco didn't relish having to spend time with Potter and his so-called family, but he refused to allow that to stand in the way of his mother's friendship. He knew only too well that Narcissa was alone at the moment with only a pair of house elves for company. Being with another wizard, regardless of their relations, would do her no end of good, and Draco could never bring himself to stop that.

"Right," Draco stood up suddenly, eager to distract himself with class. "I'll see you lot after the match."

As Draco left the Great Hall, he saw Nat move away from Crabbe and Goyle with barely concealed disgust. Not that it mattered; Crabbe and Goyle couldn't read emotions to save their lives. He left them sitting next to each other, grunting quietly in a conversational way.

During his Transfiguration class, Draco had so much trouble paying attention that, he eventually just gave up. As Professor McGonagall tried to explain how to transfigure a book bag into a carpet, Draco stared at the front of the class, his eyes glazed over. His mind was far from book bags and rugs, and out on the Quidditch pitch. The weather, thankfully, was brilliant and the wind was low. Perfect Quidditch conditions really. _So why am I so worried about the match?_ Draco thought angrily. True, he had yet to beat the Gryffindors and Potter was, Draco had to admit, the superior Seeker, but somehow that didn't seem to be it. Perhaps it was the disunity within the Slytherin team. Perhaps it was the new, and often less-skilled players they had been forced to recruit in order to have a team. Or perhaps it was Draco's anger at being treated like dirt by his captain and the rest of the team.

"Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall stood directly behind him. "Your carpet has a handle and appears to be made of dragon's hide. Would you like to tell me why?"

"I…" Draco sat up straight, surprised. "I made a mistake Professor."

"And why is that?"

"I suppose I wasn't paying close enough attention."

"I can see that young man," McGonagall replied. "Five points will be taken from Slytherin. I am accustomed to much more from you Mr. Malfoy. Please see that this spectacle is never repeated in my classroom."

"No Professor," Draco said quietly, shamefully aware of Slytherins' glares and Ravenclaws' derisive giggles.

McGonagall walked back to her desk and surveyed the classroom as students who had stopped to watch the brief exchange returned top their work. Draco, his face pale, corrected his spell, resulting in a dark green carpet with thick fringes. By the end of the class he was glad to leave for the locker rooms. Every year he hated missing classes to prepare for the games, but this year he didn't mind missing Care of Magical Creatures. Especially not with Weasley lording over the class as a "teacher's assistant." Draco smirked as he thought that this class attracted _all_ lower life forms, and not just the magical creatures in question either.

Draco walked into the Slytherin locker room to change into his Quidditch robes with the other players. He opened his locker and wasn't surprised to see that his uniform was wet and had been ripped across the Slytherin badge. Nor was he at a loss to think of any number of people who might have done it. Biting the inside of his cheek and ignoring the furtive looks his teammates were sending him, he used a simple heat charm to dry the soaking fabric. The rips, however, were a more complicated matter. Like all the other students in old, upper class families, Draco had never learned to mend fabric or patch rips. He ignored the rip and put on the uniform. He refused to allow himself to be provoked by the childish pranks his classmates played on him.

"Alright men," Zabini yelled, getting the attention of the players. "This is the first match we'll be playing as a team. We have good players and bad players. I don't care which group you belong in. You will go out there and you will win. You will crush them."

As Zabini spoke, he marched around the room. At the end of his brief speech, he stopped in front of Draco. Looking down at where the other boy sat, he scowled.

"Malfoy, your badge is ripped."

"I was aware of the fact," Draco replied dryly.

"Then fix it."

"I can't. At least not in time for the game."

"Look Malfoy," Zabini lowered his voice, keeping it dangerously level as if to control a great anger. "I don't want you here, no one does, but I can't get rid of you. We don't have any other seeker and we can't afford to do without one. Otherwise, believe me I would have you out of here within seconds. All things considered, I expect you to play hard, catch the Snitch, and keep your traitorous mouth shut."

Before Draco had a chance to respond Zabini turned on his heel and marched out. Draco clenched his jaw and stood stiffly in place as the rest of the team streamed out after their captain. He followed resolutely after them. The bright sunlight blinded him, but he stared straight ahead. In front of the other team, the sun was the best excuse for his watery eyes.

As Draco rose into the air, he looked at the teachers' box. He was jolted by a nasty surprise when he saw Remus Lupin and Sirius Black sitting next to Dumbledore. What were they doing there? Draco scowled as Lupin waved at Potter who had just flown out on his broom. Potter made a rushing sweep past the box and Draco watched Black jump up and clap. Lupin reached up and placed a hand on Black's shoulder, gently forcing the other man back into his seat. Both teams got into position at the blast of Madame Hooch's whistle. Draco only allowed himself a brief moment to wonder why the two visiting men were holding hands, before taking his own place in the sky.

"Alright you lot," Madame Hooch said sternly. "I expect a clean game out there. Shake hands."

Potter and Zabini shook hands quickly, as if prolonged contact would pass on an infectious disease. Madame Hooch released the Snitch and Draco watched carefully as it flew among the players and out of sight. A second shrill blast of the whistle and the Quaffle was in the air. Draco rose above the other players and watched for the Snitch. Stephen Cornfoot's commentary blasted over the pitch.

"Lile in possession of the Quaffle… he passes to Creevey… and it's stolen by Zabini… Zabini passes to Baddock… who scores! Ten points for Slytherin. The score is ten nil."

Draco glanced over at Cornfoot contemptuously. Despite his general dislike of all Gryffindors, Draco had to admit that Lee Jordan's commentary had been excellent and entertaining. McGonagall, sitting quietly by Cornfoot's side, seemed to agree that Quidditch was much less exciting without having to jump up and remonstrate Jordan.

Draco ignored the commentary and watched the game, his eyes peeled for the Snitch. He smiled when Slytherin scored two more goals, but refused to openly cheer. When the score was ninety to thirty for Gryffindor, Zabini flew by Draco and shouted

"Get off your arse and find the bloody Snitch before they kill us!"

It was easy for him to say when he was engaged in playing the Quaffle, Draco thought as he ducked a Bludger. It was hard enough to see the Snitch, let alone catch it. He turned his head to see what Potter was doing, and was pleased that his opponent seemed engrossed in the movements of the other players, rather than the location of the Snitch. Suddenly Draco saw a glint of gold out of the corner of his eye. He spun around and saw it, the Golden Snitch. He speeded towards it, praying that Potter wouldn't notice. As he chased the Snitch around the pitch, he felt a large, speeding object behind him. Determined to outfly Potter, he put on an extra burst of speed.

Suddenly Potter flew past him on his Firebolt, but Draco still felt the speeding object behind him. Risking a look back, he saw nothing. As he looked back, he felt a huge force push him forward. Flailing wildly, Draco fell off his broom and hurtled into the air ahead of him. As he fell, Draco saw his broom speed off into the sky. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the ground as it hit him, and was shocked when someone grabbed his arm and he stopped falling. Looking up, he saw Potter reaching off his Firebolt and holding Draco up by his sleeve.

"Come on," Potter said. "I'll try and pull you up."

Draco glanced down at the thirty-foot drop below him and abandoned pride. He gripped Potter's arm and felt himself hoisted up to the broom. When he was high enough he grabbed the broom and swung his leg over it. He breathed a small sigh of relief when he realised that he was securely sitting on the Firebolt in front of Potter. As the crowd cheered his save, Draco inadvertently leaned back to catch his breath. One hand on his chest, he breathed deeply, trying to calm his furiously racing heart. All of a sudden, he realised that the sturdy surface he was leaning against was Potter's chest. Jerkily, he sat up straight, shamefully aware of every place that their bodies still touched.

"I, uh…" Draco stuttered as he turned to look into Potter's face. "Thanks."

He was surprised to see Potter blushing furiously. Instead of answering, he held up the hand he had not used to catch Draco. The Gryffindors in the crowd erupted in cheers to see the struggling wings of the Golden Snitch. Disgusted, Draco turned back around on the hovering broom. He suddenly felt one of Potter's arms around his waist.

"I have to hold on to you," Potter whispered embarrassedly. "I can't get at the broomstick from here and we're going down now."

Draco nodded tersely. As they descended, slower than usual because of the extra weight, he tried, and failed, to ignore the contact of Potter's arm, chest, and thighs. Why did they feel so hot against him? As they neared the grass of the pitch, he felt something else that disturbed him much more. Draco bit his tongue and said nothing, praying desperately that Potter had a wand sticking out of his robes. They landed somewhat clumsily and Draco leapt off.

Without looking at Potter, he strode over to the rest of his team. Zabini glared at him but said nothing. Draco walked to the back of the team and stood looking at the other team. Potter, in front of the other Gryffindors, was still crimson. Draco noticed to his chagrin that Potter stood with his broom carefully held in front of him. It had not been a wand.

After Cornfoot announced Gryffindor's victory (two hundred and fifty to one hundred) the Slytherins trooped back to their locker room. As Draco hurriedly cleaned up and got dressed, he felt the glares of the other players on the back of his neck. When he turned to leave, he found Blaise Zabini standing in front of him, half out of his Quidditch uniform.

"You bastard," Zabini snapped. "While you were up there playing little games with Potter did you happen to remember that the rest of us were playing a game? That we were working to actually win? Or was footsy with Potter more riveting?"

Draco said nothing, but glared into his captain's angry eyes. Mentally, he was counting to one hundred to keep himself calm.

"Thanks to you we lost," Zabini continued as other players gathered around behind him. "You can't even control your own bloody broom! Why don't you just get out?"

Taking the hint, Draco gathered up his Quidditch robes and his wand and made to leave the room. As he walked away he heard somebody spit on the floor behind him. Without pausing he marched to the door his head held high.

"You'd better have a working broom by Monday!"

Draco stalked out. He rushed down to the Slytherin common room, his mind whirling. Thankfully most of the other students were still out on the pitch and he didn't meet anyone on his way back. He rushed through the common room and into his room. Flinging his clothes onto a chair, he threw himself onto his bed wondering what had happened out there.

Firstly, what had pushed him off his broom? He knew that it was clearly magic. Nothing else would do that. Closing his eyes, he remembered feeling as though a giant hand had pushed him off his broom. How had this thing gotten to him? And who had sent it? He jumped up with a jolt, scared stiff. Was there a Death Eater hiding on the grounds? Did someone want him dead? He stalked over to his mirror and stared into it. His own pale face stared back. Replaying the scene in his mind, he remembered thinking at first that the giant hand was Potter flying behind him. With that thought came another and Draco relaxed slightly. The hand wasn't meant for him. Nobody wanted to kill him. It was Potter. Potter was the one who was always acting the hero in dangerous situations. Potter was the one who always received the death threats. Potter was the one someone was trying to kill. Despite his pleasure at feeling safe again, Draco felt a twinge of jealousy as he walked back over to sit down on his bed. Potter was so special. He had vanquished the Dark Lord, was the superior Seeker, was adored by all his teachers, was nice to people, was good looking… Draco frowned at that last thought, wondering where it had come from.

Which brought him to his second question. What had happened out on the Firebolt? Unless he was much mistaken, Potter had gotten very excited while Draco was on his broom. Shamefacedly Draco remembered the feeling of leaning back into Potter's strong chest and the sensation of having Potter's arms around him… No, not arms. Arm. One arm. Just to keep himself steady. It was nothing more than that. But if that was it, why had Draco felt so bothered by it all? It was clear what had happened to Potter and why, but what now was happening to Draco? Had he… enjoyed it?

"Draco!" Nat provided Draco with a timely interruption by pounding loudly on his door. "Come out."

"Go away Nat," Draco called, flopping back on his bed again.

"No! If you won't come out, then let me in. I've got your broom for you."

Draco didn't respond, but stared up at the ceiling, disturbed by his own thoughts. He heard a rustling outside his door. Nat muttered _Alohomora_ and the door unlocked. Draco didn't move as Nat came inside and closed the door behind him. The short redhead walked over to the bed and laid Draco's broom next to him. He stood silently for a moment, waiting for Draco to say something.

"It seems," Draco finally said. "That I will have to find a more secure way to lock my door."

Nat grinned and pulled up a chair. Draco sat up and examined his broom. It was slightly scratched and a few of the twigs were bent out of shape. The damage could easily be repaired with his broomstick servicing kit.

"It flew into the castle," Nat said cheerfully. "Madame Pince found it banging around in the library. I saw her taking it to Filch on the way back, but she gave it to me when I explained what happened. Don't you think it's odd that she doesn't go to Quidditch games?"

Draco spaced out as Nat rattled happily on. He didn't mind letting his little friend talk himself hoarse and it was, he had learned, something Nat enjoyed doing immensely. Draco's mind wandered back to Potter and the Quidditch game. He wondered what it had looked like to everyone else. Draco had simply flown off his broom without it stopping. Had anyone else noticed something odd about that? Had Potter felt the giant hand speed past him? Had Potter felt Draco's heart beat through his back the way Draco had felt his? Disgusted with himself again, he stood up. Nat gazed up at him, startled.

"I think I need breakfast."

"Good," Nat jumped up too. "I told you you'd want some."

The two walked out of Draco's room. Draco locked the door and went down the dormitory steps to the common room. Crabbe and Goyle, sitting around in the common room, stood up and walked behind the other two, not asking where they were going. Draco led the way out and headed towards the kitchens. He would ignore the thoughts he had been having. He would ignore any further unnatural impulses and control himself. Potter would remain exactly what he had been before: an annoying boy with an inflated ego. Nothing more. With this in mind Draco tickled the pear in the painting that marked the entrance to the kitchens. As the portrait swung open and the smell of food invaded his nose, Draco forgot his other thoughts and surrendered to his stomach. 


	12. Chapter 12

AN: Eh, this chapter isn't really edited yet. My beta's taking forever, but I've been getting really pestered to put up this chapter, so I'm breaking a cardinal rule and posting it pre-edit. I'll update it to the edited version when (if) I get it. Meanwhile, please please please feel free and encouraged to give me any edits you notice, grammar to clarification to content. Well, at least the plot's progressing. Enjoy.

Warning: This is a slash fic, blah de blah blah. If you don't like men being attracted to each other… too bad.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. Nat, however, is mine. Hands off!

Parlance of the Serpent 

_Chapter 12_

"Watch it Harry," called Ron as his friend nearly walked into him. 

"What?" Harry mumbled, blushing. "Oh. Sorry Ron."

"You look tired," Hermione said. "You'd better wake up before class. Professor McGonagall said the spell she's showing us will be on the final exam."

Harry nodded dumbly. The Gryffindors were walking to Transfiguration early in the morning. It was an easy excuse, so Harry just let his friends think he was too tired to watch where he was going. The truth of the matter was that he had caught sight of some Slytherins walking down the hallway and had stopped to watch. It had been one week since their first Quidditch match and Malfoy hadn't spoken to him once. Harry had expected him to be angry or to at least make fun of him for what had happened on the broom, but nothing had been said at all. In a way this made him feel even more uncomfortable. Could it be he hadn't noticed? It wasn't very likely. Harry bit his lip to distract himself from the memory. The memory of Draco leaning back into his chest. The memory of his arms around Draco's waist. The memory of Draco's ponytail gently caressing his cheek. The memory of…

Harry rushed into the classroom with the other students. He quickly banished those thoughts from his mind, allowing himself only to wonder when he had started calling him Draco. He grabbed a seat next to Ron and behind Hermione, and pulled out his books. McGonagall stood at the front of the class looking stonily out a window by her desk. When the class had settled down, she turned and flicked her wand at the door, closing it with a snap.

"Good morning class," McGonagall said briskly as she strode into the classroom. "Today we will be practicing _Librarius Perscripticum._ Let me see now. Ah, Mr. Finnigan, may I borrow that book you are reading under your desk? Thank you. Now watch carefully."

Harry leaned forward, trying to see around Hermione's bushy hair in front of him. McGonagall took Seamus's thin red book and placed it on her desk. Loudly, she said "Librarius Perscripticum." With a flick of her wand and a twist of her wrist, she turned the book into a large disc. McGonagall lifted it up to show to the class and Harry saw that it was actually a record. Hermione and a few other students sucked in their breath in admiration. When she was sure the entire class had seen the record, McGonagall returned it to her desk and said "Finite Incantatum," and the book returned to it's normal state.

"Now that you have seen this spell in action," McGonagall announced. "You will practice on a book of your own."

"Please, Professor," Lavender Brown said timidly. "What would the record have played?"

"You will find that out when the first of you has succeeded. On that note, I would suggest that none of you use a diary. Hurry up now, we haven't got all day."

The class hurried to pull out books. Harry grabbed his copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ and began trying to cast the spell. He succeeded in turning his book into a cover binding thin sheets of vinyl together. Glancing over to Ron, he saw that his friend was having no better luck. Ron had a copy of _Intermediate Transfiguration_ in front of him. It looked no different, except that it was circular instead of rectangular. Ron looked down on the book in disgust then turned and caught Harry's eye. Seeing his friend's poor attempt, he grinned.

"Not really our thing," he whispered.

Harry was about to whisper back when Hermione raised her hand.

"Professor. I think I've done it."

"Very good Miss Granger. Five points. Bring it up here please."

Hermione got to her feet and walked nervously up to the front of the class, clutching her record to her chest.

"But Professor," she said nervously. "I think I may have made a slight mistake. You see I have four records."

She laid them out on the desk as the class watched. Harry heard Ron mutter something about over achieving, but otherwise the room was quiet. McGonagall placed one of the records on a small record player she had set up on her desk.

"There is no problem Miss Granger. The book you chose was just longer than usual."

Harry met Ron's eyes and whispered, "I bet I know what book it is."

Hermione walked back to her seat and sat down. As McGonagall placed the needle, Ron leaned forward and patted Hermione on the shoulder reassuringly. When the record started the class jumped and Hermione gave a little squeak of surprise.

"Hogwarts a History," came Hermione's voice. "Volume One. Chapter One."

McGonagall allowed it to continue for a few moments before turning off the record player and placing the record back on her desk.

"As you all heard," she said. "The record was Miss Granger's voice dictating the book she transformed. If I had played Mr. Finnigan's book you would have heard me dictating Quidditch Through the Ages. For the rest of the class you will begin to research a report on the many uses and history of Librarius Perscripticum. Two parchment lengths will be due next week."

After class, Harry left Ron and Hermione on the way to the common room. He took a different staircase and went outside into a courtyard for a breath of air. Seeing an open bench at a corner of the castle, he sat down and entertained himself by watching his breath condense around him. He closed his eyes and leaned back to enjoy the winter sun, letting his mind empty. He frowned as he heard voices approaching around the corner, not wishing to be pleasant with intruders. Thankfully, whoever it was stopped right around the corner. Their voices seemed muffled by scarves, but he could still make out some of what they were saying.

"How do we do it?" one of the voices asked.

"I don't know," replied the other. "I asked you that."

The voices were deep and familiar, though Harry couldn't place them. He assumed they were teachers and that their scarves made them hard to recognise. The thought that they might not want a student listening in made him even less eager to show himself.

"It was your bloody idea that failed at the Quidditch match."

"I didn't know something would save him. I can't control other people getting themselves in the way."

"Look, he'll be upset if we don't get the job done. You've got to think of something."

"It can't be that hard to get him. I mean look at how unguarded he is. There's nothing for him to watch out for. Especially now that the Master's… well, you know, gone."

Harry stiffened. He had hoped that with Voldemort's death and the end of the war he would no longer have any threats to worry about. Apparently here were two more. In the very place he hoped he could be safest. So what had knocked Draco off his broom had been aiming for him. Not knowing what to do, he waited and listened.

"Look, here's an easy idea. We'll just…"

Harry leaned over to hear better, but the bell rang for the start of class, cutting off the sentence.

"Alright," one of the voices said. "Tonight. We'll do it tonight."

Scared through, Harry listened to them walk the way they had come. Only waiting until he was sure they were far enough away, he peeked around the corner. There was no one in sight. Shaken, he went inside and headed towards Snape's dungeon. He met Ron and Hermione on the stairs. Stopping them, he said,

"Look, something's happened. I have to tell you about it."

"But Harry," Hermione frowned. "We can't be late for potions. Professor Snape would deduct points."

"It's important," Harry hissed. "I overheard…"

He stopped speaking as Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle walked past them.

"Alright, I'll tell you after class. But it's important."

"Are you sure you should wait?" Ron asked nervously.

Harry nodded grimly. They hurried into the dungeon, taking their usual seats at the back. As they set out their books, Ron leaned over to say something to Harry, but the door slammed open and Snape swept in. The class was silent as the potions master watched them from the front of the room. His large green magical eye swept around the class, but his normal eye remained focused on one student; Harry.

"Today you will take notes," Snape walked behind his desk as the class dutifully pulled out parchment. He sat at his desk and began to read from a book, his head turned down and his face away from the class. "Auxiliqus. It is a healing potion. It is used for healing open wounds. When placed on the injured skin it stings and smokes. Five points from Gryffindor Thomas."

The class looked up to see Dean Thomas stopping mid yawn. Normally he would never be rude enough to yawn into a teacher's face, especially not this teacher, but Snape had caught him with his magical eye.

"I do not remember telling you to look at Thomas," Snape looked up, again fixing only his normal eye on Harry. "If you do not profit from my teaching you will look up the ingredients of Auxiliqus and turn in a written description of the brewing process at the end of class. Get to work."

Harry and Ron threw open their books and started scanning pages. Hermione stopped them and divided the appropriate pages among them to get the work done quicker. As Harry read about the history of Auxiliqus, he felt eyes watching him. He glanced up at Snape, but the professor was using both his eyes to intimidate Neville. As Harry trained his eyes back towards his book, they caught on another pair of eyes. Grey eyes. Harry blushed and turned away as Draco sneered. He looked back at his book and set his jaw. Distracted as he was he gave up trying to read and merely pretended to be paying attention. He wondered again what Draco knew about what happened during the Quidditch game. Harry heard again the unknown voices from outside. _It was your bloody idea that failed at the Quidditch match. I didn't know something would save him. I can't control other people getting themselves in the way. _It appeared that Draco had unknowingly saved Harry's life by getting in the way of, well something.

"Potter."

Harry looked up and swallowed nervously. He had not noticed Snape coming up next to him. He glanced back down at his page of notes, grimacing at the single line written there. Again he met Snape's eye, trying to ignore the shiver that always went down his back when the professor smiled that way.

"Do you remember the assignment Potter?" Snape asked icily. "Good. Now will you tell me why you are not doing it? No. I see. Perhaps your own thoughts were much more riveting than the history of Auxiliqus. I hope at least that you can pay attention to the brewing process. The class will be testing it on themselves next week."

He raised his voice for the last sentence. He turned back to Harry, ignoring the subdued whisper of complaints.

"Not that I expect you to do well. Much like your father, you've never had the skill needed to brew a proper potion. In fact I'm amazed I've been able to pass you all these years. We will see how you do next week. Of course," he added maliciously. "I will have to take into account that your little cuts don't heal very well, do they."

His magic eye flicked up to Harry's scar, but his normal eye stayed riveted on his student's face. Used to Snape's taunts, Harry set his jaw again and said nothing. Snape's smirk grew as he turned his magic eye to Ron.

"Ripping school books Weasley? Ten points from Gryffindor."

He swept up to his desk again and Harry breathed easier. He looked over at Ron and saw that his friend had accidentally crumpled a page in his book under the table.

"Sorry," he mouthed. "I just got angry."

Harry nodded and went back to his work. When the bell rang for the end of class he was glad to get away from Snape's glare. He walked up the stairs from the dungeon, talking to Ron and Hermione. He tried to ignore Draco in front of him and failed miserably. It didn't help when Nat came up and said hello to Hermione, causing Draco to turn and look back at him. Ron glowered at him, but said nothing. When Nat ran up to walk with Draco, Harry noticed his scarf lying on a step near him.

"Oy, Nat," he said. "Here's your scarf."

He reached over to pick up the green and silver length of fabric. Suddenly Hermione screamed and he felt a body hit him. He rolled down the stairs, his arms and legs flailing and tangled in the other person's limbs. They landed at the bottom of the stairs in a twisted heap. One of Harry's arms burned with pain. He felt around for his glasses with the other hand. As he did so, he noticed that the other person had long silvery blond hair. Furious, his groping hand finally found his glasses. Before he could put them on Hermione and Ron ran over to him.

"Oh my goodness Harry," said the blurry shape that was Hermione. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Harry replied. "It's just my arm and my glasses that hurt. I think they're both broken."

"Malfoy knocked you over," growled Ron.

He quickly performed _Reparo_ on his glasses and put them on correctly. Able to see clearly, he saw that he and Draco lay in a pile of books and school supplies. Like Ron and Hermione, Nat, Crabbe, and Goyle had rushed to Draco's aid. Frowning, he magically gathered his books together. When he saw that Draco was standing, albeit on one leg, he turned on him.

"What the hell was that about Malfoy?"

"Nothing Potter," Draco drawled, biting back pain as he tried to put weight on his hurt leg. "I just thought it would be good fun to roll down the stairs with you and break my leg."

"Piss off," Harry yelled.

"Now, now," Draco said coldly. He met Harry's eyes and held them, forcing the meaning of his words on his opponent. "Don't get _excited_." 

Catching the double meaning, Harry blushed. So Draco had noticed. Well there was nothing he could do now that would change the other boy's memory. He turned his back on Draco.

"Come on," Harry said to his friends. "I've got to go to the infirmary."

As the three of them marched up the stairs, he heard Nat behind him urging Draco to visit Madam Pomfrey as well. Not looking forward to walking up two flights of stairs with Malfoy, Harry sped up.

"I'm sure Draco didn't mean to," Hermione said as they walked. "After all, he did fall too."

"Yeah, well that won't make my arm feel better, will it?" Harry growled.

He silently stomped up the stairs, his friends striding along beside him. He could hear a slow uneven clumping noise behind him, accompanied by Nat shrilly begging Draco to let Crabbe and Goyle carry him.

"For the last time, no," came Draco's furious whisper. "I can walk on my own. Either shut up or get away."

"I will not go away," Nat said to Harry's surprise. "But I will carry your things for you. Accio books!"

There was a loud clattering noise, a squeak from Nat, and Draco swore softly. Hermione turned quickly and clicked her tongue in dismay. Harry and Ron also stopped to look behind them. Nat was busily trying to gather up his and Draco's schoolbooks, which had flown all over the stairs. Hermione hurried down and started helping him collect the books. Harry could hear Ron grinding his teeth, but neither of them showed any other reaction.

"Thanks Hermione," Nat said cheerily. "Draco couldn't carry all of these on a twisted ankle."

"Oh well," Hermione said, catching Ron's eye. "I'm not doing it for him. I just knew there was too much here for you to handle on your own."

She hurried back up to where Ron and Harry were waiting and smiled brightly. The three of them kept going at the same pace as before. Harry grinned inwardly to see Ron awkwardly shoulder some of Hermione's burden. They reached the infirmary without any other stops. As they entered, Hermione and Ron dumped Draco's books on a spare bed. Harry hurried over to Madame Pomfrey and displayed his arm.

"I… fell down some stairs," he explained. "Malfoy did too. He should be here any moment."

As if on cue, Draco, Nat, Crabbe, and Goyle came into the infirmary as well. Harry glowered at Draco, but said nothing. Madame Pomfrey told Draco to sit quietly while she mended Harry's arm. She uttered a spell and Harry felt the break heal. For a moment he was in excruciating pain, but it passed and he found that he was able to use his limb again. Madame Pomfrey shooed Harry, Ron, and Hermione out of the infirmary before starting on Draco. Outside, Harry stretched his arm a bit.

"Well, that's much better," he said absently.

"Of course it is Harry," Hermione said soothingly. "Madame Pomfrey can cure anything. A little break like that wouldn't be a problem like that, remember when she regrew your whole arm?"

"Yeah," Harry raised his voice, watching Draco saunter out of the infirmary only moments after he had arrived. "Only that time Malfoy didn't push me down any stairs. It was a _different_ slimy git."

Draco turned and looked Harry straight in the eyes. Harry glared back and for a moment no one said anything. Finally Draco broke the silence.

"Look, Potter," he spat. "I know you don't have much to work with in that head of yours, but try to comprehend that while I have no problem with you falling headlong down the stairs, it is not one of my common afternoon routines."

"Yeah, well you still pushed Harry," Ron growled.

"Really Weasel?" Draco sneered. "Why would I waste my energy on that? He's stupid enough to trip on his own without getting me in any trouble."

"That is the only important thing, isn't it?" Harry said, standing purposefully in front of Ron. "Too scared to do anything that'll incriminate you. Oh no, you're too scared to really have a go at me, aren't you? We've known that since we were first years. Couldn't even show up for a duel after you'd challenged someone who'd never even been near a jinx. No. You're just a stupid coward!"

"I am no coward," Draco said softly, his face even paler than usual.

"Yes you are," Ron cried angrily, ignoring Hermione's persistent hand on his shoulder. "You're an evil murderous coward… just like your stupid father!"

Harry sucked in his breath as an ominous silence fell. He heard Hermione gasp behind him, but he kept his eyes on Draco's face. The pale grey eyes widened for a moment, before returning to angry slits. Nobody moved for about a minute, then Draco broke the stillness. He stepped forward and slapped Ron across the face. Ron was in such shock that he momentarily did nothing. Harry was sure that his friend would physically attack Draco, and with all his work with magical creatures and his Quidditch practices, Ron was becoming exceptionally strong. Draco was no weakling, but Harry knew he would be beaten to a pulp if Ron really got started. Somehow, he didn't want that to happen. Thinking quickly, he acted. He shoved Draco backwards and took a menacing step forward.

"No one touches my friends!" He said levelly. "I challenge you to a wizard's duel."

"Harry, no." Hermione whispered, placing one hand lightly on his shoulder. "Don't be foolish!"

"Leave off Hermione," Ron snapped. "I'm his second."

Nat tugged urgently at Draco's sleeve. "Don't Draco. Come on, it's not worth it."

"Fine," Draco said coolly, displaying no sign that he noticed the insistent redhead at his elbow. "Crabbe's mine. Name your place and time."

"Astronomy Tower. Midnight tomorrow," Harry said shortly. "Let's see if you can actually show up this time."

He stalked off, Ron and Hermione in his wake. When they were a ways down the hall, Hermione burst out.

"Harry I can't believe you challenged Draco to a duel!"

"Hermione," Ron responded, exasperated. "Did you hear what that git was saying? Did you see him hit me?"

"Yes, but that's no excuse," she said shrilly. "Harry could be seriously hurt out there. I mean he knows some very advanced curses, but so does Draco!"

"Oh yeah. I forgot you and your little friend were on a first name basis now. Why didn't you offer to be his second?"

"Ron! Of course I'd support Harry. How can you suggest something like that?"

Harry tuned his friends out and stared at the ground as it flew under his feet. His heart was pounding in his chest and he could feel his temperature rising. He was going to fight Draco. He was going to have a duel with Draco Malfoy. What had he gotten himself into?

As he turned a corner, he looked back. The four Slytherins still stood in the hall. Nat was waving his arms around, clearly furious, but Draco wasn't paying attention. He was watching Harry. Harry caught his eye briefly, but looked away again as he and his bickering friends marched up a staircase. Yes, he was in trouble alright. Not only was he going to duel with someone who had been raised by a very powerful Deatheater, he was going to duel with someone who was more attractive than anyone he had ever seen in his life. Harry mentally kicked himself and hurried up the stairs, wishing that tomorrow would never come. 


	13. Chapter 13

AN: Hello again. After a long time, this story continues. Sorry 'bout the wait, but there was something I had to fix. I confess, I made a big mistake that I _cannot_ fix in this chapter. So far my narration has alternated between 3rd person limited with Draco and 3rd person limited with Harry. This chapter HAS to be Harry's pov, so I'm messing up the order. I tried to do Draco's POV for a while, but that was awful and I had to start from scratch. I'll probably want to do a double Draco pov sometime later and hopefully that can even it out. Otherwise, I'm sorry for the sappy, fluffy, drippiness of this chapter. Once I started I just couldn't stop. Unfortunately this chapter seems to be setting the tone for quite a lot of the rest of the story.

Warning: SPOILER for _Order of the Phoenix_! It's not plot related at all, but I adore the new ideas, so I just had to fit one into my story. It really helped plug up a gaping plot hole! And, as usual, this story has boys loving boys, so don't read it if you don't support Massachusetts. 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of J. K. Rowling's WONDERFUL creations and I am sincerely sorry about the butchering that they receive at my hands. I am also ashamed to say that I did lift a scene right out of _OotP_ but I really couldn't figure out any other way to present the information. And keep your paws off Nat. _He's all mine!___

Parlance of the Serpent 

_Chapter 13_

"Try to aim away from his face when you're casting," Hermione said, speaking rapidly as they walked along the hall under Harry's invisibility cloak. "And don't use any really damaging curses. And if he starts saying anything that even sounds like a dark curse, forget everything but a shield. And if you can't get a shield up in time, drop to the ground. And if you can't drop fast enough…"

"Hermione," Ron said exasperatedly. "Harry's fought duels before! Besides, Malfoy isn't really very good at duelling and all that. I mean he's definitely not as dangerous as You Know Who, and Harry fought him. Don't worry Harry, you'll be fine."

Harry sighed under the cloak. Hermione had been lecturing Harry on duel safety procedures since she realised she couldn't talk him out of it altogether. Ron, on the other hand, had been telling him constantly that he had nothing to worry about. Between his two best friends, Harry hadn't had a moment's rest from thinking about the upcoming duel. Not that he would have had one anyway; he'd been preoccupied with the duel all day. Like Hermione, he was worried that the duel would get too serious and that someone would be hurt. More frightening was the thought that at this point, Harry wasn't sure that he'd be able to hurt Draco if it came to that. So it was that with a mind fraught with conflict, he set out at fifteen minutes to midnight under the cloak with Ron and Hermione bickering all the way. As they got to the base of the Astronomy tower, Harry stopped them. He could hear voices up the stairs.

"Come on, you don't need to do this."

"Nat, I didn't want you with me at all, so either go back or be quiet. If I want your advice I'll ask for it."

Harry swallowed and pulled off the cloak. Ron and Hermione looked at him, both betraying their uneasiness. Pulling out his wand, Harry led the way upstairs. They walked out into the night and saw Nat, Crabbe, and Goyle standing in the centre of the tower. All three of them were watching Draco who stood at the far edge of the tower top, leaning on the ramparts. Hermione coughed politely and Nat whirled around. His eyes met Hermione's and she briefly shook her head. Harry knew they had been trying together to stop the duel. Harry shoved the cloak into Ron's hands and walked steadily forward.

"Malfoy," he said clearly, stopping a few paces from Draco. "I am ready."

Draco turned slowly and the two opponents gazed into each other's eyes.

"As am I," came the reply. Draco's eyes flickered to Hermione, before resting again on Harry. "Have Granger call it."

Harry scanned Draco's face, trying to read his expression, but only met a blank wall. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hermione nod. Draco stepped forward, wand raised in salute. Worried that his wand would fall out of his sweaty grasp, Harry bowed. They straightened, raised their wands in position and waited for the call.

"Three," Hermione said quietly.

Harry gripped his wand tightly.

"Two."

He found himself wishing it were all over.

"One."

"_Locomotor Mortis_!"

Harry fell to the ground, his legs locked tightly together. He struggled to hold himself up with one arm and pointed his wand at Draco.

"_Tarantallegra_!"

Harry hurriedly muttered the counter curse to unlock his legs. He stood up, catching his breath as Draco calmed his own furiously dancing legs. Harry didn't want to be dishonourable, but he waited a moment too long.

"_Relashio_!"

Harry's robes caught on fire. As he stamped on the hem of his robes, he pointed his wand in Draco's direction.

"_Conjunctiva_!"

Harry heard a deep groan and, still not taking his eyes from his smouldering garments, he muttered _Protego_, and then sent a jet of water at his feet. Suddenly he heard a deep voice say _Crucio_. He looked up, instantly afraid. Crabbe, one hand over his pained face, was pointing his wand at Draco. The blonde screamed and fell to the floor. His screams, mingled with Hermione and Nat's, filled the air.

"No!" Ron yelled. "Crabbe, you idiot. Stop!"

Harry caught a glimpse of Draco's face, twisted and contorted with pain. Without thinking, Harry jumped at Crabbe. Ignoring his wand, he pummelled the other boy's back. Goyle ran over and knocked him off. Twisting out of Goyle's way, Harry aimed his wand at Crabbe.

"_Stupefy_!"

Crabbe fell to the ground and Draco stopped screaming. Harry ran over to where Draco lay, curled up on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ron comforting Hermione and Goyle bending over Crabbe. He put a hand on Draco's shoulder and shook him gently.

"Draco," he whispered. "Draco!"

Draco didn't move. Nat came over and kneeled next to Harry, his face white. Draco groaned, his eyes closed, and folded himself closer into the fetal position. Harry gave a small sigh. At least he was somewhat conscious. Looking around, Harry saw that Goyle had revived Crabbe who was rubbing his eyes. Ron had his arms around Hermione, but they were both looking at Harry. Harry was about to speak when he heard footsteps. He jumped up, his eyes wide.

"Filch."

There was a mad rush for the stairs, Crabbe and Goyle in the lead. Harry was almost at the bottom when he realised he had left his cloak at the top of the tower. With a brief word to Ron, he ran back up the staircase. On the way up, he met Nat trying to pull a semi-conscious Draco down the stairs with him. He had Harry's cloak over his arm.

"Thanks," Harry muttered, taking the cloak.

"Wait," Nat panted, his eyes pained and pleading. "You've got to help me. He can't go on his own and I can't carry him. Please."

Harry paused for a fraction of a second, and then threw the cloak over the three of them. Grabbing Draco by his free arm, he helped Nat carry him down the stairs. At the base of the tower Harry turned them automatically towards the Gryffindor tower. Halfway down the hallway, Harry remembered that the two people he was with were Slytherin students. As he tried to figure out where to hide, he heard something that made his heart stop.

"We'll find them my dear," Filch crooned, presumably to Mrs. Norris. "They can't have gotten far yet."

Harry glanced at his companions. Draco was almost out cold and Nat's eyes were as wide as saucers, but he made no noise. Harry motioned for them to continue into the narrow hallway ahead of them. They turned into it but they had not taken two steps before the two professors Harry least wanted to see turned into the hallway from the other end: McGonagall and Myrmidian. Frantically, Harry looked around. They were trapped. He pushed the three of them up against the tapestry hanging to their right. With luck the professors would just pass them by. Harry put a finger to his lips, and Nat nodded.

"… should have a firm grip on curse work," McGonagall was saying.

"Perhaps," Myrmidian replied. "But Severus has warned me, and I have noticed as well, that he has no sense of the subtleties vital for a really excellent student of my subject. I hear he's quite unable to cope with the awareness for detail required for the art of making a superior potion."

Harry, glaring at the dancing trolls in the tapestry, knew immediately whom they were talking about. How many times had he heard Snape criticizing his lack of potion making skills? Determined not to give himself away with his indignation, Harry seethed silently.

"True, there is a slight lack of subtlety in him," McGonagall replied. "And a disregard for rules which may yet become a problem. Don't judge him too harshly until he has proven himself unsatisfactory."

The professors rounded a corner, but Harry knew they only had a moment to run and hide. He wished there was a room nearby where they could wait for Draco to wake up. As he was about to leave, he heard Nat hiss "Harry!" Turning, he was shocked to find that a highly polished door had appeared in the wall. Not waiting to consider what might be behind it, Harry pointed his wand at the handle and whispered _Alohomora_. The door swung open, and the three rushed inside. Harry immediately slammed the door shut and locked it.

Turning, he saw the room for the first time. It was almost the size of the Gryffindor boys' dormitory and equally well furnished. A few comfortable looking chairs were scattered around the room and to the right there was a wall cupboard over a sink. Nat was hauling Draco over to a long green couch that stood by one wall. Awed, Harry flung his cloak onto a chair and sat down.

"What's this room used for?" Nat asked innocently as he propped Draco's arms up on the couch.

"I don't think it's used for anything," Harry said quietly. "I've never seen it before and I've been through this corridor heaps of times."

"Well it's perfect for us to hide in," Nat said cheerfully. "Do you think we can look in the cupboard?"

Harry nodded, still slightly dazed. Nat walked over to the cupboard and opened it. Harry's view of the contents was blocked by the boy's red thatch of hair, but soon Nat turned around again. In his hands was a book entitled, _Cures to Magical Ailments, Volume IV: Resuscitation_. Behind the young Slytherin, Harry saw a shelf of books and another shelf holding what resembled Madam Pomfrey's store of healing draughts.

"This place is perfect," Nat squealed, his eyes wide.

"No," Harry stood up, his expression shifting into a frown. "This place is weird. It's as if someone knew exactly what we wanted. As if they knew everything that happened."

Harry paced slowly across the plush carpet. Nat watched him nervously, clutching the book against his chest. Since his dealings with a possessed diary, Harry had learned to distrust anything that could think for itself. Harry's mind whirled from idea to idea. Was this an extra room stocked by Madam Pomfrey in case the infirmary filled? Had students filled its shelves for just this situation? Had it perhaps been Dumbledore who, somehow aware of their predicament, had magically prepared a room for Draco's recuperation? And Harry had another question.

"Nat," he asked, pausing in his furious course across the room. "Why was Crabbe using crucio against Malf… Draco?"

"What?"

"The curse that made him scream."

"Oh, he didn't mean to," said Nat earnestly. "I didn't see it all very well, but I think when Draco made your robes burn and you tried to do something back to him…"

"Conjunctiva," Harry interrupted. "It hurts your eyes and makes it hard to see. Sorry, keep going."

"Well, that makes sense," Nat continued. "Because when you cast it you missed Draco and hit Crabbe. He started covering his eyes and flailing and cast the curse, but accidentally hit Draco instead of…" Nat trailed off.

"Instead of me."

"Yes," Nat paused uncomfortably. "What exactly is that curse?"

"It's one of the Unforgivable Curses. It's the most illegal sort of curse you can use because it makes you feel a pain that is stronger than anything else in the world."

"What are the others?" Nat asked, his eyes wide and curious.

"There are two more. Imperio makes people do anything you want, even hurt themselves. And the third one is Avada Kedavra. It's one of Voldemort's favourites," Harry added quietly. "He used it to kill my parents."

"And you," breathed Nat.

"Yes," said Harry bitterly. "He used it three times on me."

"And you survived… three times?"

"I did. Somebody else took the blow for me the third time," Harry swallowed painfully, hoping to end the conversation there.

Thankfully, a groan from Draco stopped their talking. Nat ran over to the couch and kneeled at his friend's side. Harry followed more slowly. Draco lay with his eyes clenched tightly and one hand grasping the pillow beneath his head. Nat, examining the book he had pulled off the shelf, gingerly placed two fingers on Draco's forehead and rubbed them in an even, circular motion. Draco relaxed slightly, though he kept his eyes closed. Looking for approval, Nat turned his eyes to Harry. Harry gave the boy a weak smile. Nat stopped his massage, and moved to sit in one of the chairs. As he sat, he fought to hide a yawn.

"You needn't stay up if you don't want to," Harry said kindly. "I'll stay here until he wakes up. Don't worry."

"I'm not tiaah," Nat yawned, proving himself wrong.

"Don't worry," Harry repeated. "Just relax."

"No," Nat insisted. "Let's talk. Tell me about the town Hogsmeade."

"Ah yes. I forgot you wouldn't be going next weekend."

"What's it like?"

"Well," Harry began. "It's a village really. It's cluster of small shops, some homes, and the Shrieking Shack."

"That's the place where that werewolf Lupin used to hide. I read about him in the _Daily Prophet_."

"Yes," Harry smiled. "He's my…"

Harry paused. What word could sum up his relationship with Remus. Godfather wasn't strictly accurate, but friend seemed too unrelated. Before he could find the words, Nat kept talking.

"Tell me about the shops."

"The shops are small, but interesting. The best one is Honeydukes. It sells all the sweets you could want. Close second is Zonko's, the joke shop. Oh it's nothing to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes up at Diagon Alley, but it can be described as rather dangerous. There's also a post office, a teashop, bookstore, clothing store, and basically anything else you might need on a weekend trip. There are two pubs, the Three Broomsticks and the Hog's Head. The Hog's Head is rather disreputable, but the Three Broomsticks is quite cosy. I'll bring you back a Butterbeer if you like."

But when Harry looked up, Nat was fast asleep. Harry smiled again, and settled himself in an armchair. He enjoyed talking to the young Slytherin for Nat was, as Hermione had said, sweet. Again, Harry wondered how Draco and Nat could be so compatible. From the years in which he'd known Draco, the other boy had always been stuck up, unforgiving, and unbelievably rude. What could have changed him? As he thought this, Harry knew the answer. The war had made Harry a different person, why should it not do the same to Draco? Especially with his father in Azkaban.

Harry jumped as Draco groaned again, breaking the silence of the room. Harry got up and went over to the couch where Draco lay curled up, his face a mask of intense pain. Remembering what Nat had done to make it better, Harry kneeled down and placed the first two fingers of each hand on Draco's temples. Gingerly, he began to lightly massage the pale boy's scalp. Draco's face quickly relaxed. Harry stopped the massage, but remained kneeling.

Harry gazed down at Draco's face, captivated by its ethereal quality. Draco's white face was slightly tinged with pink. His soft hair had come undone and had fallen in a shimmering mass on the arm of the couch. His lashes, surprisingly dark and long, lay on his cheeks. His jaw was slightly slack and his lips curled softly, reminding Harry of light petals. They certainly looked just as soft. Suddenly Harry was filled with the desire to find out. With an almost trancelike unawareness, he leaned forward. He could feel Draco's breath on his cheek… he could see Draco's eyelashes flutter as he breathed… Harry closed his eyes and gently touched his lips to Draco's.

Creak!

Harry jumped away from Draco, his face red, and looked quickly to the sound of the closing door. There, robed in his short, his tea cosy, and his many pairs of socks, stood Dobby the house elf. Still worried that Dobby had seen what he had been doing, Harry smiled weakly.

"Dobby. Uh… what are you doing here?"

Dobby made a little bow. "I is coming to find Harry Potter, sir. Harry Potter's Wheezy sent Dobby."

"I see," Harry replied, sinking into a chair. "But how did Ron know where we are?"

"He did not know sir," Dobby said, also sitting down. "Dobby knew that if Harry Potter was in trouble near here, he would be in the Room of Requirements."

"The what?" Nat, who had apparently woken up when Dobby had come in, was sitting forward eagerly.

"Room of Requirements," Dobby explained, nodding to Nat. "This room is equipped with whatever a person has need of, and appears when they pass the door. House elves use it."

"Wait a minute," Harry said, remembering a comment of Dumbledore's a few years ago. "I've heard of this room. Let's say, Dobby, that I needed to use the lavatory…"

Nat giggled childishly. "It would fill itself with chamber pots, wouldn't it?"

"Yes sir," Dobby affirmed, nodding his head sagely. "So I knew Harry Potter would have found it."

"Well thank you for coming Dobby," Harry said, pleased now that the room was something Dumbledore was aware of. "But I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to send Ron a message for me. Please tell him I can't come until Draco wakes up and can make his own way back to the Slytherin…"

"Oh no, Harry Potter sir," Dobby jumped up, puffing his chest proudly. "Dobby can take young master Malfoy sir. Dobby knows a way."

"How?" asked Nat. "Unless you have some sort of special apparation magic you can give us, we need a couple invisibility cloaks and a stretcher to get him back."

Dobby winked and tapped the side of his nose. He scampered over to the sink and hopped up to reach the cupboard. He opened the cupboard door and there, where there had been medicine books, were a pair of invisibility cloaks and what appeared to be a folded up stretcher. The house elf proudly levitated the objects off the shelf, and jumped down to the floor himself.

"The Room of Requirements will provide, sir."

"Dobby, that's ingenious," Harry exclaimed, grabbing the levitating stretcher and unfolding it. "Would you levitate it down to the Slytherin common room?"

"Of course sir."

"In that case I'll be going," Harry glanced over at Draco's prone form, blushing at the recent memory. "I'll just, uh… lift him up first, shall I?"

Without waiting for an answer, and well aware that Dobby could have done it magically, Harry strode over to the couch. He leaned over Draco once more, allowing his face to move close to the other pale one again, and slid one arm around Draco's back. Holding up his legs with the other arm, he picked Draco up and carried him slowly across the room. Careful to appear under more strain than he actually was, Harry allowed himself to marvel at the way Draco's head fit so perfectly into his shoulder. Regretfully Harry lowered his burden onto the stretcher and looked up. Dobby wore his usual smile and Nat appeared to be fiddling with one of the cloaks, so Harry was spared having to explain his action.

"Well, thanks Dobby," he said, putting on his own cloak and fastening it at the neck so only his head was visible. "I'll see you later Nat."

Harry pulled up his hood, and gingerly opened the door. The hall outside was empty so he stepped out. Before closing the door behind him, he looked back at Draco's sleeping body. Knowing he was invisible, he impulsively blew a kiss. Embarrassed of himself and sure his face was as red as Ron's hair, Harry hurried back towards the Gryffindor common room and bed.


End file.
